


The Hour - Unbound

by Samstown4077



Series: Randall Brown / Bel Rowley Collection [2]
Category: The Hour
Genre: 1950s, Angst, Building up a romance, Character Study, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Hurt, Kissing, Love, Older Man/Younger Woman, Peter Capaldi character, Romance, Slow Burn, dealing with new feelings, dealing with past feelings, dealing with past relationships, hurting fluff, m-rated for later chapters, society standards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 97,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddie has survived, and decides to stay with his wife, and while Bel tries to finally move on while keeping The Hour alive, Randall realizes that Lix has also moved on without telling him. The connections between all of them run deep, and while everybody tries to keep going, it seems that two who never looked like they could be an option for one another, seem to become exactly this. Randall Brown/Bel Rowley. Past Series 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01-Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sure how many people know "The Hour" and have watched it, some might only know it because of Peter Capaldi's character Randall Brown, for those and everyone who wants to refresh their knowledge, I have written a Character Summery for all participating main characters in this fic. Who is Who, works what and who was/is involved with whom. What is very important, as I will work through the past and present relationships and as all my fics bare a little drama here and there, those past relationships and entanglements will be important through out the fic.  
> As the text is long, it didn't fit into the notes, and I made an extra chapter as "Intro". 
> 
> Most of this fic is already planned out and written (as draft). My aim is it to update at least every week (as I have done with Collide) and as soon as I have finished writing it I will publish in shorter intervals. 
> 
> Not that anyone cares, because those who would, probably haven't even clicked on this story, but I tell you anyway. For a bit I was about to make a "Clara Oswald" version too, what means, Bel gets replaced by Clara and Freddie by Danny Pink. Then I thought I shouldn't do it, at least not as long as I haven't finished this one because the dynamic would be different, the details and just replacing names might not do...(or maybe it would?) Mayb I do it when I am done with this one. 
> 
> The story is set a couple of months after the end of S2 and will span over at least half a year. You will be thrown into the action without big explanations, it helps when you have seen the hour, but I have thrown enough information into the story, so you will find out what connects one character with the other. If you haven't seen it, I advise you to read the character intro. 
> 
> If you have questions, ideas or critic don't be shy and review.

 

 

Time: 1957/58

 **Randall Brown:**  
Head of News at The Hour in London, before he has worked in Paris as Head of News, bachelor, type of a loner. Has OCD, a favour for straight lines and order in his personal space (and also at the office). Wears three piece suits, smiles rarely and has worked with Lix Storm in 1937 in the Spanish Civil War.  
They had an affair together, and Lix got pregnant with Sofia, who she later gave up for adoption when Randall left. The reasons for that are blurry, but they haven’t talked about it in around 20 years and haven’t seen each other.  
In 1957, he came to The Hour to ask Lix for the birth certificate to find out what has happened to his daughter. After having many discussions, they seem to rekindle their relationship over the search of their daughter only to find out that their daughter had died at the age of two in an air raid in France. No one knows about their past relationship nor the child they had together.  
His eccentric and perplexing management style can infuriate his co-workers - but hides a brilliance that will reinvigorate The Hour.

  
 **Bel Rowley:**  
Producer had to fight her way up to the top against many men. Has romantic feelings for her best friend Freddie Lyon, but both are unable to talk to each other about those feelings.  
A year before Randall arrives, Bel has an affair with the married Hector Madden. Whilst others at first discount him, she sees a hidden passion in Hector and a potential for brilliance. However, Bel's new found bond with Hector does not sit easily alongside her deeply embedded friendship with Freddie.  
The affair ends after Bel realises Hector will not leave his wife, and she also not wants to marry and have kids, what would lead to giving up her job. She is also too strong in love with Freddie.  
Freddie is her best friend and soul mate and she has grown so used to having him around that it is only within her new role as producer of The Hour that the friendship begins to shift and fundamentally change.

 **Freddie Lyon:**  
enthusiastic, hard-working journalist at The Hour. An agitator and provocateur, Freddie has worked with Bel for the last four years and fallen in love with her, a fact he keeps close to his heart. Freddie has never had a committed relationship; this is in part due to his experience during the war as a teenage evacuee.  
While working hard at his job, he misses the chance to tell Bel about and has to watch her having an affair with Hector. After she gives Hector up, Freddie leaves London to travel the world. In Paris, he works for Randall Brown, who will later ask him to come with him to London. Before that, Freddie meets Camille, a French writer and activist, and marries her. Without telling anyone, he comes back to the Hour, becoming Hector Madden’s co-anchorman.  
Bel hears from him that he is now married, what leads to the fact, that Bel tries to move on, aside they both have still feelings for each other. In late 1957 Freddie gets attacked by mobsters and gets almost beaten to death. Bel finds him.

 **Hector Madden:**  
The face of The Hour, good looking and smart anchorman, married to Marnie, but at first, he is and probably always will be a party goer, women lover and heavy drinker. He gets more than once into trouble for it, and almost loses his wife (and job) over it.  
Hector's own upbringing and education have formed him into a charming and charismatic man and this makes him perfect for the role of presenter on The Hour.  
He has an affair with Bel Rowley, and even confesses her love for her, but she tells him a no, and afterwards he returns to his wife and stays with her and they manage to work through his problems. He drinks lesser and is mostly on time for his work.  
At first, when he gets Freddie as co-anchor at his side, he is displeased, but with time, they both form a good friendship. Hector is a good man, and always has an open ear for Bel, as she has saved his ass more than once at work.

 **Lix Storm:**  
Photographer and writer, an eminent war correspondent, works the foreign desk at the Hour and knows Randall Brown from their time together in the Spanish Civil War. They both had an affair and a daughter, Lix had to give up for adoption as they both not wanted to marry and she couldn’t return as a single mother to London. There is a hint, she loved having a child, but wasn’t ready for it and also not ready to give up her independent life. When Randall comes back to The Hour to find out what has happened with their daughter she first declines but later helps him, only to find out that their daughter has died long ago. Aside she still has feelings for Randall; she has realised, that their time together is over.  
Her quick wit and dry sensibility covers a series of deep scars, aware that her past is there to haunt her when she sobers up. Living on a constant cocktail of whisky and Gauloises, Lix anaesthetizes herself from the pains of the world and is a good and competent drunk.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is not much to say. The story begins with Randall and Lix, setting the tone between them, and also bringing Bel into the game.
> 
> Okay, one thing there is to say; I try to stick to the canon of The Hour but here and there I might take liberties because I have forgotten about the canon, because I don't know better, or I just interpret it that way.

Prologue 

Two things exist in London one can always rely on. One is the weather. Because as simple as it sounds, there is always weather happening in London. One might say that is what happens all around the world, but Great Britain always had some special connection with the weather. Maybe because people all over the world believed that there were only two possibilities and none of them was sunshine.

Fog or rain. There was no in between, not in the myths and legends that twine around this magical city called London. The truth was and always will be another.

The other one are News. Not a day without news to report. Not a day of silence or calmness in the busy streets of this city. There is never boredom or not something to talk about, hence, to report.

Yes, there is Berlin, and there is Paris on the old continent, but none is and ever will be like London. And who comes to London, will soon realize, that the news in London are made — among many others — by the BBC. The British Broadcasting Company.

One of those shows made by the BBC is called “The Hour”, created in 1956. A weekly television show, created by a team of smart and quick witted journalists.

The Hour falls with the team that makes it, not only with their ideas and cleverness, also with their passions. With the decisions of how to live their lives, with their involvement with each other and forces from the outside, that have tried to attack the Hour and its makers over the past two years.

Going thru dark times not only once the Hour is now, in early 1959, back to old strength.

Their makers, however, still have to follow this example.

 

#####

 

It was four months now since Lix, and Randall knew what had happened to Sofia. After his breakdown, they had settled into some comfort moments for a while, sharing time with each other. For a few days Randall had thought they would be able to rekindle the relationship they once had, but nothing ever happened.

Maybe Lix needed more time or thought _he_ needed more time — he couldn’t tell. He never could when things came to Lix because she was so utterly complex and complicated.

When Freddie had lain in the hospital for a whole month, they had paid him regular visits. Bel, Lix, Hector and he.

Lix usually drove with him to the hospital but never drove back with him. It was one of the reasons why he disliked the visits in the hospital with his colleagues so much, it was a minor one, while the bigger one was, that he felt in the wrong place at all times. Not because it was a hospital, more because he didn’t know what to say or do.

Bel apparently was shattered inside after finding Freddie, and when the Doctor's had told them, he was on the brink of dying, it had an effect. She almost seemed to get lost in her sorrow and her feelings over Freddie.

The first few days Freddie was unconscious and reacted to nothing. Randall had to admit to himself later, that he was sure Freddie would die, but the young man was one of the stubborn ones, and, in the end, didn’t. It was a huge relief when he finally woke up.

In all those four weeks, he had kept an eye on Bel, as he was still her boss and had to take care of the show also while everyone was taking care of Freddie. He knew that Lix also looked after Bel, giving her support and comfort. They were close, not only because they had the same gender, and he was glad Lix was there for her, because who else could have given her a needed hug, or could have dragged her down to the bar to take a drink or two. Randall was not only the wrong gender but more unable to deal with the emotional disaster while taking care of the show and the crew.

Someone had to keep them all in check, had to remind them that they still had a job to do. They did not all acknowledge his doings, probably because he delivered his words with a stern face and with less empathy.

Maybe that was why he felt left out because he couldn't allow himself to be all too startled, all too invested, because he had a News Show to run, and his producer was clearly a mess inside, sometimes barely able to concentrate on the easiest conversation. Randall knew she had been of some sort involved with Freddie. They knew each other forever, and he had seen that she had been in love with him, and he was with her, and then the boy had shown up with a wife.

It was none of his business, of course, they were all grown-ups, but he couldn't hold back somehow, telling Freddie in a quiet moment about a boat he once bought. On of his rasher decisions — asking Freddie what his was. The wife? Not that he had asked that out loud. From there one, he didn’t care about it anymore, at least, that had been the plan and then the young man had almost died, and Bel was the one to find him.

When he had woken up again, the Doctors had told them he would be fine again, but he had to rest another three weeks in the hospital. With him getting better, the mood of everyone else rose too, and soon Randall saw them all standing around the bed, joking with Freddie.

Those were mostly the moments Randall felt like a fifth wheel, followed by Lix telling him, Hector would drive her home as they both lived in the same direction.

As it was his manner, he didn't say something about it and kept his questions to himself. Instead, he watched Lix talk with Freddie, how they behaved with each other, and soon he had been certain Lix had shared something more than just a glass of whiskey or some cigarettes with the boy. It was before his time at the Hour that he concluded, and so he didn't let the matter get too close to his heart.

On a Thursday evening he stepped inside of Lix's office, she was just about to end the day as well as he, searching together her stuff, and when he entered she didn't look surprised. Not annoyed, just incredibly busy, shooting him a tight smile.

“Calling it a day?” she asked, adding some more lipstick while holding a little mirror in front of her.

“Yes," he fumbled with the edge of his hat, wearing his coat and his briefcase. He dwelled on the spot, watching her a little longer apply the lipstick. "I was wondering… would you like to go and have some coffee?"

Randall had asked her four times the last two weeks, and she had declined every one of his offers, and so he was sure she would do it again, and he didn’t ask her because he fancied another rebuff, but because he needed to know.

Every time she had told him either she had been tired, had been meeting up with someone, or simply hadn’t been in the mood. He knew Lix, and knew her ways and knew when she had to do something, but didn’t like to do.

Lix stood up and shoved her coat on, “Sorry, dear, I am meeting up with someone. Girls night one could say.”

He was well aware she didn’t offer another day, another night, and he was well aware too, that she wasn’t wearing the ring anymore around her neck. A few weeks ago she had replaced it with a round blue stone.

“Lix," he stopped her, and she immediately knew what he wanted to talk about with her.

“Can we talk about it later, Randall?" she pressed, in need to go. To run away like she always did.

“We both know, you won't provide me another later, will you?" he placed his bag on her desk.

How had that happened, he sadly wondered while watching her shutting herself off from him? It still felt like yesterday, when they had sat in the little bar, and she had stood up, to sit aside him, taking his hand, and he had talked about a start.

A start that had stopped promptly, the moment they had found out about Sofia and her destiny. The last connection that had remained through all the years had ruptured in this one moment.

“What do you want to hear?” she crossed her arms in front of her, a sign he could read very well.

Randall sighed long; he was devastated by the situation, by her almost. Also, it didn't change the fact that he still loved her. Indeed, she had always treated him like a dog, and aside she had a quick mouth and a bigger ego as some men in town, she wasn't able to tell him what the facts were.

That she had moved on because their story had come to an end. That Sofia had been the last chapter, an incredible sad chapter, and now the epilogue had been read, she had moved on. Had to move on. Lix had decided it for herself, not telling him about it. As usual, she had expected from him to figure this out by himself. Because telling him about it would mean to wake up again, make her face the facts and she couldn't do it anymore. Her strength was limited, and hearing about Sofia's loss and working through it, had taken a lot of energy.

He nodded, he understood, as he always did. Yes, Lix Storm was so utterly confusing but probably the one person he knew best in the world, and then he pointed at the chain around her neck, as if it was just a minor detail, “I like the stone. It matches your eyes.”

One hand of Lix reached for it, and landed on her chest, touching the stone with her fingertips, feeling her heartbeat underneath it, “Yes,” she whispered, “I thought that too.”

Lix had moved on, and it was her way of telling him finally, and it was his way of telling her, he had understood, “Have a good night, Lix. I’ll see you tomorrow. Conference at nine, don’t forget.”

“Randall!” she stopped him once more. “I am sorry.”

He gave her a small smile. There would always be room in his heart, reserved only for her with all the feelings he had for her, but Randall knew he had to move on too. He had to before and he knew he was able to pull the trick once again, "Don't be. I understand," he glanced around in her office, seeing the camera that once again had no lid on the lens. She would never listen to him. He pointed at it, "Dust on the lens. Good night, Lix."

He closed the door behind him and walked around the corner, only to almost bump into Bel, who looked at him with wide eyes, and her mouth was about to say something, but nothing came out. Randall guessed she had heard every word.

#

Bel yawned, glancing at the watch on her desk. It was short before six, and she decided it was time to go home, or find someone who wanted to take a drink in the bar around the corner. There she remembered, that Lix had said something to her during the day when they had met in the ladies room. First, she had declined, but Lix had told her she should go out a bit more, like in the old days.

Apparently the older woman had noticed that Bel had retreated from her social life after Freddie had been released from the hospital and that it was clear he would stay with Camille. Not that he had said otherwise, but for some reasons Bel had hoped he wouldn't.

As the show needed her as a producer, she hadn't spent as much time in the hospital as she had wanted, knowing she couldn't abandon her obligations entirely. Also, she had undoubtedly spent too much time there. Randall had covered her, without ever saying something about it, and she was grateful, but had told herself, she better not tested his patience too much when Freddie finally had woken up, and it was clear he would get good again.

“Come on," Lix had leant against the sink. "It will be nice. You're spending all your time in the office; it's time you get some fresh air, darling."

Lix had been an enormous emotional support for her. She always had admired the older woman for being strong and straight-forward in her job and life, as she always had worked in a man's world, like Bel had. Aside being a producer was something else as being a tough war correspondent, but Lix understood how it was, how nasty it could be and that a woman wasn't allowed to let down her guards for just a moment, not even when the one she loved almost died. So Lix had looked out for her, pulling her aside, allowing her to shed a tear in the privacy of her office, giving her a hug and comforting words on the way. She also urged her to move on with her life, to leave Freddie behind. Telling it was not good to keep her hopes up, that it was hard to see her getting hurt day by day.

“I know,” Bel said. “I think about it okay, when do you go?”

“Six, be at my door when you’re ready.”

And so she decided to go with Lix and some friends of her, but when she reached her door, that was ajar, she heard Randall's voice. Unsure what to do, she decided against knocking, instead on waiting in the hall. The problem was that she could hear every word, and there was no office around she could vanish in, and she was certain when she would hurry back to her office; they would hear her, and it would end in some idiotic moment.

When she heard him come out, she sneaked around the corner, to do as if she was just on her way toward Lix, but Randall was a bit too quick for her, and she hadn't proceeded to manage her face to look normal.

They shared a glance, and she tried to find out if he was now angry or surprised, waiting for him to say something, but Randall Brown wouldn’t be Randall if he wouldn’t look all emotionless and stern.

“Miss Rowley,” he then said and moved on.

“Mister Brown," she uttered back and for a moment thought to follow him to tell him it wasn't as it had looked. When Lix came out of her office, the decision was postponed until the next day.

“You are ready? Come on, I really need a drink now,” Lix took her arm and tucked hers under.

 _Sure you do,_ Bel found herself thinking and scolded herself quickly for it. It was none of her business.

It had taken a while till the penny had dropped for Bel, that Lix and Randall had been involved years ago. The penny had mostly dropped because Lix always went into some particular mood when having one or two drinks too much in her veins.

They had been out, and Bel had been over a few discussions with Randall and had poured out her heart about it while sipping a double vodka.

Randall had lured Freddie literally from Paris to London, and without telling her, had given him the job of Hector’s co-moderator. In one of their talks between the office and the coffee machine — moments Randall used very deliberately — he had mentioned in one of his many riddlesome sentences that Freddie had talked about Bel from time to time.

First, she had thought, he meant, ‘spoken of the Hour', but it was quickly clear that if it had been so, Randall would have said it so, and so she knew that Randall knew that Freddie and Bel had feelings for each other. The man was smart and had figured it, as Freddie was usually easy to read.

It was all a lot of knowing but not saying, and if one said something, it was veiled or hidden somewhere between the lines. Randall Brown was a master in this that she realized very fast.

“Yes, that totally sounds like him,” Lix had laughed, downing her drink. “He always does that.”

Luckily Bel wasn’t too drunk at all, seeing a chance to find out more as Lix’s words sounded so odd. Clear was, Lix was way too familiar with him. as she had told Bel, that she did not want to lie to her, about her knowing Randall.

“Where do you know him from anyway?” she asked bluntly, first thinking about a tactic to force Lix to make a mistake, and then she came to the conclusion she only had to be brave and ask straightforward.

Lix considered her with glassy eyes, apparently, the last sound mind trying to tell her not to answer the question, "The Spanish Civil War. That's where we met."

Bel only nodded, telling herself not to ask on, with luck Lix would spill the beans all by herself, and that’s what she did a minute later, “We had a ridiculous affair.”

It was all she said about it, telling her then she had to go to the ladies room. Bel watched her walk unsteady and mused over the information she just had heard. It might have been a ridiculous affair, and Lix had tried to make it look like nothing, but Bel knew better.

Sometimes when something was still in one’s heart, was still making an impression, people tried to make it look like it was nothing. A self-protection mechanism.

Bel never had asked her about the golden ring around her neck, Lix wore so presently, that people obviously didn't wonder about it. At least not out loud. Now after she had heard the conversation between her and Randall, the penny had dropped a little more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that one was a good one to start (not that I have another first chapter) and you are interested. I would love to read your thoughts in the comments. Thank You.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Randall is just odd, Bel already knows, but that Freddie can lose his temper in such way is new. And then there is the wallpaper in Bel's office, Randall simply can't stop himself from commenting on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make good progress with this story, so have a little more.

After she had taken a few drinks, Bel took the bus home, to take a long shower and to fall asleep on the sofa, only to wake up in the middle of the night to move to her bed. For some reason, the encounter with Randall was not about to leave her mind. She felt guilty and even she was sure Randall probably had already forgotten about it, she felt the need to tell him her version.

They worked close together, and aside some quarrels they had over Hector, the show or the way they brought news reports onto the screen, they needed to trust each other, and she suddenly feared he would let her feel that he thought she had been eavesdropping.

So, the next morning after the morning conference, she followed him to his office, “Mister Brown, can I have a minute with you?”

Randall placed his files neatly on his desk, and glanced at his watch, “You even can have two minutes, Miss Rowley.”

For a moment she stumbled over the joke, her mind going blank, trying to read something into it. Randall looked at her amused — what meant there was only the finest hint of a smile on his lips, “It was a joke, Miss Rowley.”

“Of course," if this was a tactic to confuse her, or distract her from the upcoming unpleasant talk she was about to have with him, it worked. "Well," she turned around and closed his door, "I wanted to speak to you about yesterday."

“Yesterday?”

“I had the impression you thought I was eavesdropping,” Bel made a gesture with her hand.

“Eavesdropping?”

Bel lost her temper for a moment, "You remember, that we bumped into each other yesterday evening?"

Randall looked up from his papers, placing his pen aside, perfectly lined aside the desk pad, "I have not dementia, Miss Rowley. I remember."

His behaviour was awkward for her, and for a second she thought about to tell him "Never mind" and leave, but then she would be bothered by her doubts again, and so she decided against it.

"Mister Brown, I not want to sound flippant, but if this is your way of telling me, that you think I _was_ eavesdropping, and now you're just not eager to talk about it, or you try to punish me somehow, it's not working with me."

One of his eyebrows had come up when she had used ‘flippant’. Slowly he leaned back into the rest of his stool, “Miss Rowley I can’t follow you. And I see no reason to punish you in any way.”

“I wasn’t,” she huffed. “I was about to go to Lix, as she had invited me to take a drink with her. I couldn’t know you were there too, and it was hard to overhear your discussion. I really tried not to … listen and … what I want to say is, that I am sorry if you have the impression I did eavesdrop. You can rely on me, that I will keep everything to myself. I have forgotten half of it already.”

Randall stood up, and came around his desk, shoving one of his wooden elephants back and forth, before grabbing some other files from a sideboard, “I'm glad the matter is sorted then. Was that everything?”

“Y-yes," Bel couldn't believe this was everything he was saying about the matter and was about to ask him exactly that when he glanced at his watch again telling her,

“I have to go, Mister Madden wanted to talk with me,” with that Randall passed Bel, opened the door and left her behind.

Bel rolled her eyes at his behaviour, before simply slumping down onto his Freudian sofa. Placing her hands left and right from her, she glanced around in his office, her fingertips brushing gently over the soft leather.

Randall Brown was an odd man, from the beginning, and it wondered her that they had been able to work so good together over the last eight months. After Bel had risen over the first shock, his fiddling, his need to have things straight and lined up — his tics — she had to agree with Lix that he was a good journalist, and did The Hour excellent. In the end, it was him, who had held everything together after the incident with Freddie. For that he had all her respect. Unsaid, like so many things in the rooms of the Hour, but she was confident he sensed it somehow.

“Are you okay?” a voice suddenly interrupted her in her thoughts.

It was Lix, holding a book in hand, looking at Bel expectant.

“Sorry, I was...," she smiled coy, standing up. "Randall is not here when you look for him; he is with Hector."

“I hoped so," Lix came in after checking the floor so no one could see her sneak in, walking over to one of the bookshelves. "I sometimes borrow a book from him," she explained, seeing Bel watching her with a quizzical look, "He hates it. Never knows which one I took. Of course, I return them after a while."

“Ah,” Bel exhaled, now very sure that this ridiculous affair had been not nothing at all. “I see.”

Lix regarded her with a smirk, figuring Bel had finally come to the conclusion about her and Randall's past. It was a secret in good hands, there Lix was sure, "And what is your excuse being here? Did you two switch offices?"

Bel chuckled, “No, I… he is odd.”

Lix didn’t know if she should laugh about it or just wrinkle her forehead at Bel, “That’s no news, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not," Bel trailed off with her thoughts, "We were talking… no, actually we had a discussion. Or I had one, and he was only talking, and then he told me everything was fine and left me for Hector."

“That’s certainly a fine blow to your self-worth,” Lix smiled at her mockingly. “When one would leave me for Hector I would feel the same. Dear, don’t worry, he didn’t mean it like you take it. Start stealing his books too, it’s satisfying.”

“I thought you just borrow them,” Bel smirked.

Lix made a smacking sound, “Ah, I say borrow, he says stealing. You see, it’s all a matter of perspective.”

The matter dropped after that, and aside Bel did not forget about it, she decided it was not worth the fuss, as Randall obviously was not confident to discuss it with her, or it simply was none important to him.

Welcomed with happiness and new enthusiasm about the show’s future, Freddie had returned a month ago to the Hour. Even Hector, after being all angry, that Randall had made Freddie his co-host, gave the man a hug, "God, I missed you, boy!"

“I am not sure if I can say the same, Hector,” and had given him a boyish grin, that made Hector bark with laughter.

Since his return, Bel often checked on Freddie, asking how he did, if everything was okay at home, and sometimes even offered him to send someone else out to do the necessary research. In other words, Bel was overprotective, giving the fact,that her closest friend had almost died in front of the office. The watched man was able to play the game exact four weeks when his patience ended.

“I might think it’s better to give it to Brandon,” Bel talked about an article about tax issues and the upper 100 of the city. “He is very keen on it, and I think you should go with the monthly politics survey.”

“Stop it!" Freddie grabbed the papers from her; she held out to him, throwing them into the paper bin with way too much verve. "Stop it right there!"

Bel didn’t know what had been happening, looking in shock at him and then at the paper bin. A few people in the open office silently decided to leave the two alone. Only Hector stayed at his desk, trying to look like he would ignore the quarrel while he was intently listening while reading some newspapers.

“Freddie?”

“Listen, I can't do this anymore! You… you are trying to protect me from something that is non-existent. I can look after myself, you know," he barked at her. "I don't need a mother hen, Bel! So please, do me a favour and stop it. Give Brandon the damn survey and I'll take care of the tax article myself."

Bel stepped back, not sure what had gotten into him, “I didn’t mean-”

“-You did mean exactly this," Freddie huffed, his hands pressing into his sides, before reaching for his cigarette in the ashtray. "Just stop it. That's all I want. I work as I have done before. Stop looking after me."

Hector swallowed and turned around when he heard the floor creak, seeing Randall stand by the door, listening to the scene.

Bel glanced around, feeling on the defensive about the situation. "Fine," she then said after a bit, "I leave you to it. I expect news about it tomorrow on my desk," there were many things she wanted to say to his outburst, but the presence of Randall and Hector made it difficult. If she had been a man, it would have been something different, but so, she wanted to spare herself the talking she was prickly.

Freddie saw the rage in her eyes, and that she was about to say something, and he immediately felt sorry for his words. Since the attack on him, he knew he was fast close to anger and frustration. He had been talking with his counselor about it, who told him it was a posttraumatic stress disorder, what caused his outbursts.

“Bel-”

“No!” she stopped pointing at him. “Tomorrow,” and left, and Randall stepped out of her way, when she rushed out of the room, following her with his looks.

“What’s the quarrel?” Lix suddenly came from the other side in, looking at all the man, who looked startled, overwhelmed or simply clueless. “What did you say?” she turned to Freddie.

“I… she mothers me since I am back, like a child, not allowing me anything,” Freddie explained erratic. “I tried, Lix. It simply broke out of me. I should talk to her.”

“Leave it,” Lix held him back.

“Lix?”

“I said leave it,” she repeated, “for the moment. Calm down, and let her calm down, now she will barely talk to you.”

Freddie considered her words, “Yes, you are right,” he nodded and returned to his desk.

Lix smiled at him, and then walked over to the post office boxes, finding Randall stand there, who hadn’t moved since she had come in. She eyed him from tip to toe, “Quite a group you manage there, Mister Brown.”

He took her teasing with his usual outer calm, turning to her, “Yes. I am glad you pointed that out Miss Storm, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

Lix shot him a glare over her glasses, followed by a smirk, “She is in her office, in case…”

“I will,” he tugged at his tie and then went first to the restroom washing his hands and checking the fit of his hair, before he approached Bel’s door, knocking three times.

Bel huffed in frustration when she heard the knocking. Couldn't Freddie listen? In a rage, she stood up and ripped the door open, "I told you— Mister Brown?"

Randall licked his lips, “May I come in?”

Her cheeks red of embarrassment; she stepped aside to let him step inside her office. Then she returned to her desk, while Randall glanced around for a bit, and then closed the door completely again.

Bel played busy, fiddling a new paper into the typewriter. She tried hard simply to ignore his presence, waiting for him to speak up, but after a minute, he still only stood there looking around the room.

“Will you say something, sooner or later, or did you just came here to admire my office wallpaper?”

Randall looked up to the wallpaper across from him, examining it for a bit, “I don’t like it.”

Bel looked up from her paper, at Randall, then at the wallpaper. She never had taken a closer look at it. Indeed, it was not to most beautiful, and aside she was angry and wanted to tell Randall to leave her alone and that he should play his games somewhere else she started to laugh, "What?"

He turned to her with a smirk, "I haven't seen you smile in two days."

Bel's eyes hurried around the room, confused, "Mister Brown, when I am honest, I have to tell you, I don't understand you. Not at all. In the morning, I tried to explain to you, about the untoward incident the evening before, and you just walked out of your office, letting me look like a little girl. And now, you stand here, dissing my hideous wallpaper, being worried about me and my amount of smiling. Could you for once be not all a living question mark?"

He waited a few seconds before answering, deliberately. His left hand had vanished into his trouser pocket before he turned once more to the wallpaper, regarding it, “I told you, that the matter is dropped, about yesterday. I have no hard feelings,” he turned away from the wallpaper toward her. “You are no one for eavesdropping. It was, as you mentioned, an unhappy incident. More important as yesterday and your wallpaper; I am the Head of News, I am responsible for my team, and the team moral. Mister Lyon seems to be back in old strength in the job-”

“Hold on for a moment," Bel stood up, shaken by the tempo Randall changed topics while anticipating something. "When you are about to say, this quarrel was all my fault now, I want you to reconsider this because it was not me who lost its temper. Mister Lyon-"

“-Mister Lyon, did you wrong,” he rose one finger at her. “He lost his temper, and his behaviour was unacceptable.”

Bel opened her mouth, to say something, but nothing made sense anymore, and so the only thing she did, was shaking her head and return to her typewriter. Only God knew what Randall tried to tell her.

Randall walked over to a pinboard on the other wall, and shuffled around two paper clips; that didn't please him in its formation. Aside it was not his office; he couldn’t hold back his urge to straighten the lines the two piece of paper made on the wall. He had stopped feeling ridiculous about his behaviour long ago, now more using it as a strength, to keep people in the unclear of his intentions. Knowing that most people expected a deeper meaning behind actions, and fiddling with things and straighten lines might be important to him, but had, in the end, no meaning at all. It was simply a good trick to keep people on their toes. Here, however, Bel didn’t notice, or simply ignored his doing.

"Sometimes we have to let go of something, to go forward. It's not always easy, but necessary, Miss Rowley. Let Mister Lyon be, he'll find his right way."

Bel watched him finish with her pinboard, "With all due respect, Mister Brown. The staff is my responsibility too. Mister Lyon almost died because of his recklessness, and I will not ignore that, and when I think he has to take care about the political survey, then he has too. Not because I mother him, as he protested, but Mister Lyon always had a hang for forgetting to take care of himself. I protect my people; even they don't like it. It doesn't mean I try to keep Mister Lyon away from the good stuff. Time is what some people need; even they don't know it."

Randall had listened to her one hand in his pockets, with the fingertips of the other he trailed along the seam of his trousers. There was silence in the room, just a typewriter in the distance. He guessed, from the level of sound it made, it could be Lix’s.

Bel saw he knew what he wanted to say, but waited, just long enough to make her doubt. Was she too loud? Too impolite? Had she understood something wrong?

 _No, she hadn’t_ , she thought, after so long working with him, she had a sense of how Randall Brown functioned. She had seen him talk to critics, to political opponents, higher staff, to people who had tried to aggravate him. She had learned a lot from him there. Randall was a master in expressing power, without using power.

Crossing her arms in front, she threw him a stern expression. Then he smiled at her, nodding, “Good. Good to have you back Miss Rowley. I was a bit worried.”

Randall had found it strange in the beginning, that he never had seen Freddie's wife in the hospital when they had been there. Till he realized, that Bel usually scheduled the visits, deliberately visiting at times, when she could be sure his wife wouldn't be there. Randall didn't know how Bel knew when she wasn't there, but for some reason she knew.

Freddie had talked about Bel Rowley a lot in Paris. The young boy hadn't realized it, but Randall had, listening to his praisings about her, and while they talked about the Hour here and there, he had sprinkled some questions about their relationship into their conversations. From where they knew each other, nothing too personal. Freddie had told him without thinking that it mattered.

It didn’t, Randall just was curious, as he asked about Lix too from time to time, doing as if he didn’t know her. Only later, when he had finally arrived as new Head of News, the answers from Freddie fell into place, revealing a net of relationships and history among them all. He was even able to detect the affection Freddie had for Lix, and vice versa, unsure what it was exactly, only later he realized about in the hospital.

To see her almost break over Freddie's beaten up body had touched him. Bel was a good person, a great producer and he respected her. Already knowing it would be a hard time for Bel, he gave her all the time in the world. He had hoped for a quicker recovery from the shock of the almost loss, but she was still young with her 32. She would recover, find her old self, it only needed time, and after she had bumped into him, the night before, apparently feeling guilty about the situation he had found a good possibility to lure her out of the cage, she had put herself.

Freddie had involuntarily helped with his outburst, something he had seen coming, after Bel had taken away two critical articles from him, believing it would be too much for him. Also, Bel was right, the young journalist was careless with himself and tried aggressively to play his injuries down already in the hospital.

Sometimes Randall thought he should change jobs and become a shrink, but for that, he felt way too uncomfortable around unstable people. Not that all journalists were stable, god beware, but at least, he knew what was waiting for him. He did the job way too long already.

“Do me a favour, Mister Brown," Bel was close to exploding. What was this man thinking? Thought he really, his doing was tactful in any form? “Leave my office, I am very busy.”

She could hold herself back, to tell him that he wasn't funny, wasn't helpful and foremost wasn't entitled to act like they were that close. Yes, he apparently knew she had feelings fowithr Freddie, it didn't mean he was allowed to tell her what to do and how to do it. She had this job not because she had done what people (men!) had told her what to do.

Without a word Randall left her office, closing the door behind him. Across the floor, Lix stood by the coffee machine, frowning at him. The typewriter was still to hear. He frowned at his misjudgment and gave a soft sigh.

Randall could very well guess; she had heard something because Lix usually heard everything that was spoken in the office, let alone Bel's voice had risen over the usual argumentation sound level. Biting the inner of his cheeks, he turned away from her and vanished into his office down the corridor.

A few days passed after Bel had given Randall a shout. They quickly forgot about it, and none of them had the feeling that their interaction was affecting the way they worked together. At one point or another, it seemed they teased each other a bit more, but it was nothing but the usual, and none of the others mentioned anything, so it was probably just them being normal.

Freddie hadn’t come back to Bel about their argument, and the atmosphere between them was tense. They walked and talked together, like work colleague would and should do, but beyond that Bel kept a reasonable distance to him, and left after speaking with him, instead of staying for a slight chat, as she used to. Not that she was angry with him, how could she, he had been her best friend since childhood days, and his little outbreak was understandable. No, she was not angry, more concerned if their friendship could last. The months after his return from France and the weeks after his accident had worked the foundation of their friendship up. Bel feared that it would soon collapse and then they wouldn’t be able to look each other into their eyes anymore, not without feeling hurt, disappointed, angry or worse; indifferent.

Late at night Bel gave herself the fault, aside it was him who had shown up with a wife, him rejecting her in the worst way possible. Freddie Lyon; making a point. He always had a hang for the dramatic, but this was even for Bel too much to take.

Not even a letter, a warning, and, therefore, she believed she had all the right to be angry, and yet felt guilt creep into her.

Had she overseen the hints? Was she too critical, too clinging to the past? Unable to let go, fulfilling such female cliche? Shouldn’t she be stronger, shouldn’t she be able to give a damn and go on? Exactly like Randall had told her?

Whatever it was, she expected a reaction from Freddie about his outbreak sooner or later, and if he were man enough and the friend she expected she was still having in him, he would come earlier or later to her. He probably just needed a bit of time, working through his action, finding words and arguments to explain to her why he had felt that way. She would give him the time while also giving him the feeling he better should hurry with it.

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hesitate to review! Thanks for the read!


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel works late, and usually she would take the bus home after finishing work. Usually...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this story! We are still in the beginning, but slowly I am about to bring our two main characters into position and what is most important in contact.

Hector, Freddie or one of the others usually came to Bel telling her about a story they could make, and it was Bel’s job to go over to Randall proposing the idea to him - when she hadn’t declined it by herself. What usually lead to the fact, that they went to Randall next, like petulant children, who tried to play out parents against each other.

Then they discussed it, and either Randall was for it or against it, and when Bel still thought she was for it, she overruled him because that was her job and from time to time her right. Or vice versa.

It was somewhere there, where it seemed everything was back to normal. Freddie was back, the staff had shaken everything off, and now finally looked forward, doing new reports, bringing back The Hour to the top of the ratings.

It also meant that Bel had to work late from time to time, but it was okay for her, she didn't mind. She had nowhere else to go as home and wasn't eager to go on another blind date some of her friends had arranged for her in the past. Dating was not an option at the moment, as she was still to thin-skinned about starting a new romance, not while Freddie danced around her every day. Yes, she had agreed in silence with Randall that she had to let him go, but that was harder as it seemed. She tried, and that was probably the point.

Hector sensed her mood, and tried to give her moral support, attempting to cheer her up, but for obvious reasons he wasn’t the man either for her problems. Their affair was over and forgotten, but Bel wasn’t able to open up to him completely. Also, it was nice having a drink or two with him, and Lix — they both watched out for Hector not getting drunk too much. Luckily he had made his peace with his wife and now was strict with her, what lead to a better lifestyle and lesser drinks.

Noticing that her eyes burned, Bel glanced onto the clock. It was after seven, and a good moment to end the day. She had seen Lix leave over an hour ago, declining her offer to have a drink downstairs, at the bar across the street, and after that she had forgotten time once more.

It was when Randall suddenly stood at her door, knocking on the wood of the doorframe, "You're working late? I didn't notice; I thought you forgot to turn off the light."

Bel groaned, feeling the pain in her back, "I forgot time. I was working on the communist thing; the sources are a bit confusing. Well, they were, now they aren't anymore," she smirked, a little bit proud of her work. "What's your excuse for staying so late?"

“Paperwork,” he said with a soft shrug. “Also, I prefer working in silence. It’s nice when everybody has left. No one knocking on one's door — disturbing.”

Bel chuckled, "Yes, that's true. That's indeed very true. Oh, I have to hurry, when I want to catch the bus home," she turned off the little yellow lamp aside the typewriter and hurried over to the coat rack, to get her coat on.

“Sure, have a good night,” Randall nodded and walked on. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, you too,” Bel went to her locker and checked her appearance in the mirror one last time, and then was about to hurry out of the office, when she ran into Randall once more.

“Aren't you living in the same direction as I do? I could give you a lift," Randall said. He had been already by the elevator, when this fact had come to him, and he knew it was cold and dark, and for some reason he had felt obliged to ask her at least.

“I think we do, yes,” she answered off-guard. “I not want to bother you.”

“You don’t, it’s the same direction, there is no bother. Also, it looks like it starts raining soon, so?" he looked at her expectant.

Bel considered him for a moment, “Is this some sort of peace offering?”

Randall's eyebrows came together. Always a sign that something had hit him off guard, "I didn't know we are at war, Miss Rowley."

It was the way he glanced at her, knowing why she had said it, but unwilling to admit, it was one. He indeed had felt, that he maybe had overstepped some boundaries. The look on his face made her laugh, “No, we aren’t. So, yes, if you give me a lift, that would be very helpful.”

He held out a hand, pointing down the corridor, “Good.”

They waited for the lift in silence, and as Bel was still musing over the paperwork she had done, she didn’t recognize the silence between them. Only when the doors closed, she slowly became aware that Randall only stared at the unclear reflection of both of them on the metal doors, and she was thinking of saying something, but couldn’t come up with what.

Men were more at ease with silence; she had read that somewhere in a magazine while women usually were always in need for a talk. She hadn't agreed with the article back when she had read it, but right now, the cliche seemed to fit. Randall was a brooding type, she measured up, and she was someone who liked to talk, who liked to be in interaction.

The ‘bling’ of the elevator in connection with the opening doors yanked her out of her thoughts.

“I parked around the corner,” Randall announced, and when he looked at the sky, seeing the thick clouds, he turned to her, “It seems to rain any moment. Do you want to wait here, I can drive-”

“-No it’s okay,” she smiled. “I’m not made out of sugar.”

Randall’s head twitched slightly over the peculiar idiom, and then he smirked too, “I’d never guessed that.”

He then held the door open for her, and Bel followed him to his car, where he walked over to her side, unlocked the door, and opened this one also for her. She felt she was blushing slightly.

Yes, the maén she encountered were usually all polite and obliging, but at work, she was a leader, so she often walked in front not allowing that way that a man opened a door for her. Sure, sometimes Freddie or Hector did, but more in the act of having a talk or a discussion with her while they all hurried down the studio. When she went out on a date, the men almost tripped over because of all the attention they tried to lure her in with. In both ways, there was no real meaning in it.

True politeness had become rare in the world. Here with Randall she felt he not only did it because he had to or because he had been thought to be like this — surely he had, over and over again — no, her Head of News held the door open for her because he wanted, because he liked to do it. It was his way of showing respect, to her or any other woman. Without any hidden agenda.

“Thank you,” she smiled coy and settled into the seat. Her purse in her lap, she glanced around in the car. She never had driven with him before, only had seen his car from afar. It was a dark blue Morris Oxford car. “It’s a fine car, you have there, Mister Brown.”

About to put the key in the ignition, he froze and looked at Bel for a few seconds, and then glanced around in his car as if he never had done it before. First Bel only smiled, and then broke into a short laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” he actually couldn't follow her, but it didn’t stop him from giving her an amused look.

“I ... don’t know,” Bel cleared her throat to compose herself again. “It wasn’t the reaction I awaited.”

“What kind of response you waited for then?” he finally started the car, setting the indicator.

“Uhm,” Bel had sat in a few cars before, always making a compliment about the car sooner or later to the male owner, because she knew men were all too susceptible to such words. “A detailed description of how fast it can go? How many cylinders the engine has and that the leather is sun dried or something?”

They had arrived at a red light, and Randall couldn’t hold back a chuckle, “Well Miss Rowley, I am sorry I have disappointed you, but I am seriously have not much clue about cars. There are others who take care of this — I call them usually mechanics. If you insist, I can ask the next time how many cylinders the car has.”

Bel turned her head and watched him driving, a smile on her lips, “That’s what you think of me, don’t you?”

“I beg you pardon?”

“That it would impress me, such facts about cars,” she glanced out of the window, noticing that it hadn’t started raining yet. “That a man could impress me with such useless information. I know probably more about cars as you.”

“I’m very of sure of that indeed,” Randall quickly answered, before he took a turn.

Bel realized what she had said and to whom, “You might be not a good example.”

“For what?”

She was about to say something rude, but stopped herself, and kept quiet, spending the rest of the drive watching the streets and the people wandering around. When she saw him come close to her apartment building, looking for a parking spot, she turned toward him again, “You are good with words, Mister Brown, I am sure people have told you that.”

The engine died at his command, "You haven't answered my question, yet."

“I know,” Bel said, “because I don’t have a reply. You know nothing about cars, and I stepped inside, wanting to make a conversation. I made the mistake of assuming you were … I don’t know; it seems I also have to think about to end this sentence,” she paused, already one hand on the door handle, when she turned back to him. “I never met a man before, knowing nothing about cars. Why do you know anything about cars?”

It sounded more like an accusation as a question to him, “There are more important things in the world as cars, and impressing women with it, Miss Rowley. Aside you can’t be impressed with it, can you? That’s what you just told me.”

It was strange with him, she thought, the whole drive. Pleasant, but strange, probably because Randall was someone who didn’t open up quickly, and never said things directly. Later on the couch, she would try to tell herself, that he was unnerving, like his tics — shuffling items around, bringing thumbtacks into order.

The truth was, she had stopped to bother about it. She saw it and didn't take notice. It was all right for her, even calming sometimes.

When she had sat in his office, before Lix had come in, she had almost relaxed over the room that was so in order. The Hour was mostly in chaos, it was good to know there was one place in the office, that was as far away from chaos as possible. Randall Brown's room.

She looked at him another second longer; sure he wouldn’t say anything more, polite enough to give her the chance to say something more. Maybe even answer his question, for what he was not a good example, deep inside knowing Bel wouldn’t answer it tonight.

A smile played over her lips, meant for the situation in whole, “Indeed. Goodnight, Mister Brown,” she stepped out of the car, bowing down one last time, “Thank you for the drive.”

He waited, till she had vanished behind the main door. It didn’t go by unnoticed. When she had reached her apartment and had taken off her coat, she glanced out of the window, but his car was long gone. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will tend to update this fic on "Randall Monday" because it fits somehow... stay tuned!  
> (And don't worry, I am working on "Choices" at the moment!)


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only Randall has a past. Bel has one too. Freddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, listen, I fucked up ... a bit. I wrote this chapter before watching S2 of the Hour (finally in my own language and completely) and so I didn't know Freddies wife had left him... and that he and Bel had kissed (I knew that but had forgotten). So, what did I do, I added some hints about the kiss, but mainly this is about him coming home with a wife at the beginning of S2. But the matter of the kiss and why Camille is still here (and not gone like in canon) will be discussed in a later chapter!

The next day Bel sat in her office, working on some paperwork, when she suddenly stopped, staring at some point on the wall. In the text, she had read, had been the word ‘car' and with that she had found herself thinking about the drive and the conversation with Randall the evening before.

She wondered, what it was he had wanted to say, and then thought if she only had imagined something. Maybe she wanted him to say something more. Not particular Randall but just someone saying something about it.

They all gave her support and a shoulder to cry on when necessary, but neither Lix nor Hector offered support beyond this. Telling her subtle or not subtle to move on, to forget about Freddie, without asking her what the real problem was. Asking why she couldn't move on and maybe she wanted someone to ask, so she would be able to dissect the heartbreak inside her chest, to finally find the light again.

For some odd reason, the night before, it had felt Randall had been close to becoming such help. What was such a wayward thought, because had they not been talking about cars? Yet, it was there.

For a couple of minutes, she mulled over the yes's, and no's in her head again and again. Bel knew herself very well; she could have misinterpreted something, and Randall hadn't wanted to say anything. Not the day in her office, when he had talked about Freddie and most of all, not in his car.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts. Glancing up, she found Freddie standing by it.

“Do I come in an inconvenient moment?” he asked nervously. “You looked… lost in thoughts.”

Bel shook her head to clear her mind from Randall, “No, no, just… nothing. It’s okay, come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and exhaled loudly, “I can assume you know why I am here?”

Bel smirked, nodding, “You are here to eat humble pie, aren’t you.”

Freddie scratched the back of his head, coming now forward to her desk, slipping down onto the chair in front of her, “Yes. I am sorry. I… lost it yesterday. It’s unforgivable.”

“It is," she answered with a mild shrug. His reaction still stung, "but, it was reasonable. I didn't treat you the right way. I was overprotective, and you reacted like an idiot."

Smirking, he nodded, "I think I know what you tried in the last few weeks. You tried to protect me. I was ungrateful."

“And do you know from who I tried to protect you?" Bel asked, glad he, at least, had grasped half of the concept.

Freddie bit his lip, exhaling again, “Me.”

For a moment, they didn't say anything, and Bel pondered on the advice of Randall, to let Freddie go. Tell him about her heavy heart, about his acting in the past, about all the things that had come together, ending in such tragedy a couple of months ago.

Tell him about the severe blow their friendship had experienced and that nothing was like before, and — no matter how good they would work it out together — it never would be again like before.

Relationships change because people change. They could be still close, and have a great amount of feelings for each other, but not without talking about it, working through all the unsaid feelings.

Quickly she pushed it aside. She wasn't ready. Not yet, and not like this. Instead, she looked at Freddie very long. They indeed never had talked about it.

Her finding him, beaten up, in his blood, almost dead. Her sitting by his hospital bed in the wee hours his wife couldn't be there. For most, about that one moment, he had said, they have to do something, and had kissed her.

Bel couldn't be sure if Camille ever had found out or had sensed what between Freddie and her had been. If, she had decided never to confront her with it so not to add more drama to all of it.

Aside, since Freddie had returned with a wife, Bel hadn't done anything she could be blamed for. She had — unwillingly — accepted his decision. Bel was not the woman who was that kind of person, trying to convince him of her, and to leave Camille. The French woman was clearly a nice and good person and didn't deserve being treated like this.

Bel would have fought for Freddies heart when he wouldn't have turned up married and in love with Camille. And she would have fought when hadn't returned to her.

Standing at the end of the stairs, while he had introduced her to his wife, had been more like a defeat, and she had retreated — not only from the scene — like a snubbed dog. She had tried to erase that moment from her head and had failed miserably. What possibilities did she have after it? The girl was lovely, and it was not her fault, that Bel was in love with Freddie and that she was angry at him at the same time.

Sometimes late at night she was on the verge of calling him, asking if he only had done it because she had this stupid affair with Hector the year before. How so many things between Freddie and her, all this had stayed unsaid, and the moment he had showed up with his wife, she had regretted all those moments they never had used to talk about all this. This between them. The chance was gone, and from there on so many other words stayed unsaid, because what sense there was? He was gone, and yet he was still there.

The truth was, seeing him every day, was an ordeal for Bel.

“Do you know, how it felt? Finding you?” it suddenly burst out of her, looking straight at him. “Have you ever wasted a thought about it? Me finding you, and almost watch you die?”

Freddie didn't know what to say, he hadn't reckoned the conversation would go this way. "Of course, I have." The many hours in the hospital had left much room for thoughts. For regrets and reflexions.

It had been a complicated time so or so, and then the attack on him had happened. Bel wasn't the only one being emotionally hurt. Seeing her having this ridiculous affair with Hector had left a mark in his heart, he only had realized when he was laying in the darn hospital bed, damned to inactivity. Nowhere to go and nothing to take his mind off the case of Bel Rowley.

He remembered asking Lix — no not asking, but begging — to bring him some good liquor, to survive the dull times. It was what he had said, but he actually needed it, to give himself a break from all the reflections his sober brain started to nag him with.

As she was reasonable, Lix had declined, and so he had asked her if he could do some work instead. But how could he work properly while laying in bed. It was not the writing that always kept him busy, but the running around. The research, the phone calls, the interviews. In the end, he had sighed and had told her to forget about it.

The next day she brought him some magazines and one of those hideous crime novels she always read.

“ _Why do you read them anyway?" he shoved the book away. "It's always the butler or the gardener or… god knows who! It's entirely unrealistic."_

“ _Stupid boy, that’s why I read it,” she gave him one of her mild expressions. “Because it is unrealistic. I have reality enough all day long.”_

As the days were long in the hospital, he started to read the book, uttering insults at the pages and the characters they inhabited.

After the first one, he asked Lix for two more books, and she only laughed at him, handing the books over.

It didn’t stop him from thinking about Bel, and her affair with Hector, and that it had hurt him, but he had been too busy working, and too afraid and proud to tell her about his feelings. Freddie had felt rejected, and he had been sure Bel didn't want what he had wanted.

Of course, this was just a stupid excuse, because they both wanted the same, and they both knew it. A delicate case of a clear communication error.

And then he had left. Or more precisely, he had run away. First around Europe, only to find a good job in Paris, meeting Randall Brown there and later running into Camille. Both of them changed his life.

One recruiting him to come back to London, the other, he came found warmth, love and an open heart with. He loved her way, her will and when he finally was able to persuade her to go out for a coffee and to read her one of her poems, he couldn't deny that there was something between them. A joy, and openness he had always missed between Bel and him. Sure he wouldn't return soon to London but stay in Paris, he had shared his rooms with Camille and not long after that they had decided to marry. No romantic fuss, just a late dinner, a heated discussion about politics, poetry and feminism. Him mentioning something about marriage wouldn't cage a woman, that he wasn't the kind of man expecting a woman to cook or whatever. No, he was open, almost expected her to have a job, and Camille had told him, it was easy talking of him.

 

“ _Well, I could proof it to you, but that means you have to marry me,” it was not a thoughtless comment but an impulsive one._

“ _Are you asking me to marry you?” she had responded in a mix of surprise and accepting a challenge._

_There had been a moment of hesitation, knowing very well what it would mean, that it wouldn't be just a game. No, he had honest feelings for Camille and Freddie indeed not wanted a wife who couldn't support herself or was just a wifey, "If you like, yes."_

A month later Randall got the call from London to be the new Head of News, telling Freddie; he would like to have him on board. Without a moment of a second thought, he had said yes. Not because of the job, not because he missed England, aside this was what he told himself. Because of Bel Rowley.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I have thought about it, and I know how worried you have been in my time in the hospital,” Freddie reached out to touch her arm. “You are my best friend and I never can pay you back, not for what you have seen or what you have done for me and… and Camille.”

Bel had taught herself not to flinch when Freddie used his wife’s name, what didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, “How is she anyway?”

“Good," Freddie took his hand away again. "She always asks me to tell you to come over, for dinner. She says she wants to tell you how grateful she is that you spent time aside my bed, while she couldn't."

“Oh, as you said, we are friends, that's what friends do, no need to thank me," she nodded aflutter, turning away for a moment to hide her facial expression. "You would have done the same."

Unsure of how to react to it, Freddie scratched the back of his neck, “So, will you come? Dinner?” he asked then adding quickly, “Whenever you like.”

“You know how busy we are these days, but yes, I’ll think about it,” Bel sat back into her chair, fumbling with a pen for a moment, before lining it along the typewriter.

“Great!” Freddie smiled awkwardly. “And again, I’m sorry for my outbreak, I should have acted differently, talking with you in private. It won’t happen again.”

“Let’s forget about it,” Bel said. “Have you talked with Hector about the interview tonight?”

“Yes, I have, we worked out a good strategy. I am about to go to him next, and we will give you and Brown the questions soon,” Freddie explained, glad to be back on familiar ground.

“Perfect,” Bel glanced down to the pen, frowning for a second. “I would have never thought it, but you two worked out pretty good as a team. Hector and you.”

“Yes. Hector is a good man, and I like him as a friend," he laughed. "It was a smart move of Mister Brown."

“It was,” Bel smiled at him, shoving the pen aside, watching Freddie turn around, leaving. “Say hi to Camille, will you.”

He stopped, “I will.”

Freddies smile eased away when he had left Bel's office, going over to Hector's. The problem wasn't that he was in love with Camille and Bel. One he loved as a wife and the other as his best friend. The problem was that he wasn't sure which one he had married.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Monday!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector comes late to work. And Bel misses the bus. Good so, I'd say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Randall Monday, so new update!

A few days later

It was the evening of the next show. The light was set. The cameras in place, the interview partner sitting in his chair — everybody was ready. Almost. The main host was late.

Bel glanced the fifth time in the last minute at the watch, cursing under her breath where Hector was. She was nervous and angry and ordered Freddie to get ready.

“I can’t believe he is doing this!” she shouted, her anger echoing through the newsroom. Lix, Isaac, Sally, all the staff and Randall glancing at her. Bel was usually on the edge when they were airing; that was normal. It made her more awake, able to decide for important decisions in the fraction of a second. It was her job, and she loved it. This time, she was angry, really angry something that rarely happened.

“Maybe something has occurred ?” Lix suggested, knowing better of course.

Bel huffed, glancing again at her watch, “Yes, I am sure something happened. In form of a drink!”

Randall stepped aside her, watching Freddie through the glass that separated the newsroom from the studio, get ready for the interview, “Mister Lyon can do it without him.”

“I know he can, that's not the problem, and you know that Mister Brown," Bel turned to him. As usual, he was calm, as if nothing could ever bother him, but by now Bel had learned to read the signs. The little notch between his eyes that got bigger when he frowned - - a sign something angered him. Hector's not being there angered Randall, and it angered Bel he didn't show it. Or it angered her that he was able to keep his emotions in check and she couldn't, maybe that it was, she not wanted to think too long about it.

“Mister Madden will take responsibility for his actions, but for now, the named man is not here," Randall shoved one of his hands into his pockets, turning around to Lix, asking her with a look, if they could get hold of Hector. She shook her head. He acknowledged it with a huff through his nose, while his teeth bit the innermost his lower lip.

Suddenly the phone rang, and Lix picked up, listening to the reception that Hector had arrived, “He is here. Coming down just now.”

Only seconds later Hector came into the studio, spotting Freddie in his seat, “What’s going on?” He was clearly not sober, also not drunk. Freddie checked the clock, and stood up telling him he should go to Bel, and let him do the interview. “But we said-”

“-Hector, please!” Freddie urged, returning to his seat. The show would start in thirty seconds.

“Hector!” Bel called over the intercom. “A word.” She only wanted to have him out of the critical area before they went live.

Hector glanced around between Bel behind the glass front and Freddie and then decided that he had forfeited his right to do the interview. Swallowing down a lump in his throat, he straightened his jacket and went to the other room.

When he entered the room, Lix punished him with a look that could kill, and he cast down his eyes, “Listen, Bel, I am sorry, I-”

“-No!” Bel rose a finger, pointing to the door. “Not now, I have a show to run, and you’ll go to your office, we talk later.”

He looked over to Randall, who made no attempt of saying anything to it yet, just giving him his usual stern face, and then Hector nodded and left. He had messed up, and he knew it very well.

“ _We are live in... 3, 2,...”_

#

The show went well, and Freddie saved the day and the interview, receiving congratulations from everyone. It had been the first big on-screen interview since his return.

“Well done, Mister Lyon,” even Randall congratulated him with a handshake. “I am looking forward to more.”

“Thank you,” Freddie smirked his usual boyish grin. “I couldn’t have done it without Hector, and I don’t mean because he was late. I am sure there was a reason.”

“It's good to see you come to his defence, and I am convinced, Mister Madden had a fair share in the success of this evening," Randall turned for a moment to Bel who was still seething over the incident with Hector, "also, it was inexcusable. Miss Rowley, I assume you like to accompany me when I talk to Mister Madden."

“Yes,” she said and followed him out of the room, down the long corridor. “I know such thing falls more into your responsibility, as you made his contract, but would you mind giving me the first word?”

Randall stopped with her by the lift, looking at her, not shocked, but a bit worried, “When you promise me not to rip him apart, I will give you all the words you need.”

The lift arrived, and Bel chuckled, "No, I am not planning on ripping him apart, as you phrased it but there is a chance it might look like it. Don't be mistaken then, it's just a show of force."

“Ah,” he smirked faint, settling aside her in the small cage. “So, I haven’t seen you angry yet?”

Bel turned with a frown toward him, not catching what he was trying to say. It needed a twitch of his head, to make the penny drop. Awareness flashed up in her eyes, before the doors opened again, “No, real anger is always reserved for close colleagues and friends — and yes, Mister Madden is a close friend in the end — who disappointed me.” She gave him a short smile before entering Hector’s office. “What has gotten into you, Hector? Where have you been?”

“Bel, Mister Brown, I can explain,” Hector fumbled with a glass of water, before putting it away, because he was afraid of spilling it. “I was at the Foursquare bar, and I forgot the time. It was a mistake.”

“You were at a bar? Drinking what? Water? You smell like a liquor store, Hector," Bel had a hard time to not actually rip him apart. He had been on such a good way the past few months, and now he had pulled such blunder. Bel’s disappointment was honest; she was fond of Hector, and not only because of their past. The man was a good journalist, and with the right amount of whiskey in his veins sometimes even brilliant, but not today.

“I had a fight with Marnie," Hector then admitted, knowing it was wrong to put up a show in front of Bel who knew him all too well. It made Bel sigh. "I had a drink, or two, … or three."

“Mister Madden,” Randall intervened. “I am sorry to hear that, but your personal problems should never affect your job. We have talked about this last year, and you made good progress, showing us all that you are not only a face for the news but a good journalist. I told you also to stop coping problems with alcohol.”

“I know, I remember of course," Hector began ruefully. "It will not happen again."

“If you are late again-,” Bel took over again, all raging to the contrary of Randall, whose biggest emotional outburst had been to slip with his fingers down the button line of his vest very firm.

“-I wasn't late," Hector talked back, immediately realizing that it was a bad move.

“If you show up in this state again, late or not, you are fired,” Randall ended Bel’s sentence. “And I don’t care that you are the face of this show. I find another capable journalist anywhere down the street.”

“But… .”

“You've heard him," Bel crossed her arms, and then looked at Randall, who passed them to leave. When he was out the door and Bel about to follow him, she turned back to Hector once again, "I will not overrule him this time, Hector. You are out of second chances."

“I am sorry, Bel!” Hector lunged forward. “It never will happen again. Did Freddie do good?”

“Yes, he did brilliantly. He even defended you, just you know," she looked down the corridor seeing Randall stand there, apparently waiting for her. "Now go home, to Marnie, and clear things up. Stop being an idiot, you know you love her."

“You are a good friend,” he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then grabbed his coat and left.

“I know," she whispered unnerved and joined Randall by the mail compartments in the conference room. Randall sorted through some papers, and Bel watched him, calming herself from what had happened. Stress and adrenaline slowly easing away. When Randall had placed the papers back, he turned toward her, ready to hear what she had to say, “We both know, we can't fire him. He has a contract."

“Not this time, but the next time," Randall grabbed for some letters in his compartment. "Also, he looked scared, didn't he?"

How Randall was able to smile with just the faintest rise of the corners of his mouth, was another riddle to Bel, but she saw it, and first it was her who chuckled followed by Randall. A bit restrained, but clearly a chuckle.

“Oh, no!" she then caught a glimpse of the clock behind Randall on the wall. "Because of all this, I missed the damn bus. It's late already. Oh, one day I'm going to murder Hector, I promise." With a huff she excused herself from Randall, deciding on doing some paperwork instead. There was another hour to bridge, and she didn't want to walk in the cold.

When she reached her office, only then she noticed that Randall had followed her, "I can take you if you like."

“Oh, I… thanks, but-,” she wanted to spare them both another awkward drive, even another useless argument. Randall read in her.

“I won't say anything, I promise. It's none of my business," his hand touched the knot of his tie, asking himself why he was nervous. "You spent already enough time in the office and as your Head of News I want to remind you, that you have to take care not only of your subordinates but of yourself too."

He got her with his advice, and she smiled, weighing her possibilities. As she was too tired to stay another hour, she agreed, “Alright. Five minutes?”

Randall nodded and returned to his office to get his coat, hat and bag. Finding Lix by his door, ready to leave too.

“May I ask, what Hector’s excuse was this time? Or is it a political state secret?” she fished a cigarette out of her case, searching then for a lighter.

“He said the usual," Randall put on his hat before reaching into the left pocket of his coat, bringing out a lighter he ignited for her, "We both know what that is, so don't make me tell you things I shouldn't."

Lix smirked, leaning forward to light the cigarette, “Thank you. For a moment, I was afraid Bel would rip him apart.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bel came around the corner, smiling over Lix’s assumption. “Also, it was close; Mister Brown can confirm that.” Bel reached for Lix’s cigarette taking a single drag what made the older woman smirk.

“He deserved it, the smell of liquor was betraying,” then Lix glanced between Randall and Bel, noticing, that Bel seemed to wait for Randall and vice versa. “What’s with you two? Secret conference?”

Randall blushed, coughing into his hand, to hide himself. Bel answered for them both, “No, not another conference! As Mister Brown lives in the same direction as I do, and I’ve missed the bus because of Hector, he drives me.”

“Oh,” Lix turned to Randall, blowing smoke at him with a particular mischief, “Mister Brown was always a gentleman. But next time you should make Hector drive.”

Bel only could laugh about that, “Yes, I will, Lix. The next time when Hector ever works so late as I do.”

Lix shrugged, “Point made. Good night you two, I see you both tomorrow.”

Randall and Bel wished her also a good night and then exchanged a few shy glances. It was evident that the encounter with Lix had made him slightly uncomfortable.

Lix always liked to tease him when she had the chance, that alone had a history between them. With words or stealing his books. Lix had eyes and ears and caught up on things quickly, and she would catch up on it in case this would become regularity - and he felt it in his bones that it would be the perfect scenario for Lix to tease him. Because he was awkward and unsocial and the day before he had proved all that. Oh yes, Lix would have a lot of fun.

“Shall we?” he decided to push the thoughts away and lead Bel to the lift.

Again there was silence between them, this time, it was the elephant in the room. Bel knew he had been involved with Lix, and Randall knew that she knew, and it had been no problem, but with Lix showing up and now registering that Randall was driving her home, it seemed to complicate things — at least for Randall. He didn't say something, except the usual pleasantries, but Bel sensed it. There was some particular expression on his face. The lip biting and the notch between his eyes. Not angry, but bothered.

Waiting till he had started the car, she decided to give him two minutes to say something, what Bel already knew, wouldn't happen. So, when he had to stop at a red light, she took a long breath and said, "I admit, I never thought you take your promise literally. This silence makes me quite nervous."

He turned to her, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I mean I wouldn’t talk to anyone on the bus,” she sputtered like she used to when she was nervous and didn't know how to come to an end, “but there I hardly know anyone, while I know you and… it feels like... we are a married couple, throwing silence at each other after we had an argument.”

Randall looked at her amused. Not that he hadn't noticed the silence, and when he was honest, he had thought about a topic he could use to talk to her, but aside work nothing had come to him. And work they had already enough. Even he needed a break from work sometimes. With every other topic, he feared he would commit a blunder, and it wasn't his manners or his character to ask her out of nothing about personal things. Before he could say anything, Bel kept on talking, "You see, now I'm talking stupid things again. I should be quiet."

“Uhm," Randall reached for the frame of his glasses, reminding himself quickly, that it was not a good idea, to take them off while driving. "You don't need to feel obliged to talk. Silence is fine for me. I actually really like to talk, but as I had promised…," he had to drop the sentence when another car cut in, in front of them.

Bel watched the other car, and when the other car was far away enough, she turned to him, "You like to talk? You mean you like to tell riddles."

Randall could see the street in which she lived and slowed down a bit, so he could concentrate more on her, “Riddles?”

“Yes," she assured. "You talk about work, or you speak to me in riddles."

As he simply wasn't able to have an intent conversation with her, he waited with his answer, till he had found a parking spot in front of her apartment block. Turning the ignition off, he licked his lips, repeating her words in his head, and then turned toward her, "Four."

Bel’s eyebrows twitched, unsure if she had missed something, “I beg you pardon?”

“Cylinders," he pointed toward the front of the car. "The car has four cylinders; I think I have heard that somewhere."

The truth was, he had asked Isaac Wengrow the day before. Not on purpose, and he never had thought of asking him, when he hadn't seen the young man with an automobile magazine, deducing he was one of those men who had cars as a pastime.

They had talked about a little article Isaac was about to write, when Randal suddenly asked;

“ _You not, by any chance, know how many cylinders a Morris Oxford has, Mister Wengrow?”_

“ _Four,” Isaac had answered without needing to think. “Why?”_

“ _I just wondered," Randall had nodded briefly. "Thank you."_

“You are most peculiar, Mister Brown,” Bel wrinkled her nose while thinking about what to do with such information. “It also proves my point, that you like to talk in riddles.”

“I had the impression, you wanted to talk, and I didn't mean to be impolite and invade you with personal questions. The only topic I could come up with was remembering that you had expected from me to know how many cylinders this car has," Randall shuffled around in his seat, finding this conversation would be more pleasant in a bigger car or a cafe. He immediately pushed the last part of the thought aside. "And I don't _like_ to talk in riddles.”

“So, if this is not a riddle,” no one could convince her otherwise at the moment, ”is this your try to impress me? What you can’t because we both know, details about cars do not impress me. What leads to the question, why you mentioned it?”

He didn’t know he was leaning back, taken by surprise, till his back hit the handle of the door.

“As said, you wanted to talk," Randall swallowed, staring into the darkness. Why had he said it? He couldn't tell. It had been on his mind and was out before he had come up with something clever. "I am sorry."

He said nothing more because he was so overrun by her briskness.

Bel saw that she had made him feel uncomfortable with her way of throwing accusations at him. Randall Brown didn't deserve it, and she was aware of it. There had been no bad intentions; he just wanted to be polite. He had offered her to drive her, nothing he had to and he had tried to make conversation — even it didn't work by plan, and all she was, was being ungrateful and flippant.

“No," Bel exhaled, touching her left eyebrow with her fingertips, following the line, "I have to be the one for being sorry. My behaviour was unacceptable toward you. Indeed, it was me in need for a conversation and of course, for you, there was nothing else to ask or say. I didn't use my head."

“Ahm," usually he would tell her good night, wait till she had left and drive off. Do as if it never had happened. Instead, he felt the need to share a few more minutes with her, "It was a long day, and what Mister Madden has done, has still an effect, and I know you had no intention to be rude toward me. What I now wonder about is, we both work late in the office. I could let you be, and you will drive home with the bus as usual, or — as courtesy demands in my view — I could ask you if you need a drive home when it occurs."

Bel turned her head, looking at him with wide open eyes. How was it possible to come from car parts to… whatever this was.

“The problem is, that this time and the last time it turned out to end in awkwardness," he ended, and then took his glasses quickly off, to clean them with a handkerchief.

Now Bel understood, and she laughed silently up in relief, “Can I make a suggestion?”

“Of course,” he put the glasses back on his nose.

“Third time lucky," she smiled at him. "We do it one more time, and either it appears we still throw silence or riddles at each other, or it seems we are able to have a decent conversation. What do you think?"

The way she suggested it and smiled at him, still not deviate from her opinion that he liked to talk in riddles — no matter what he would say about it, made him laugh, "That sounds like a plan."

“Good," Bel smiled at the fact that she had succeeded and that this drive hadn't completely ended strangely. "Have a good night, Mister Brown. And thank you for driving me."

“You are welcome,” Randall said watching her step out into the night.

This time, he waited, till he could see the light go on in her apartment, and for some odd reason the Head of News was looking forward to the moment he could ask her again to drive her home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If possible I update on Thursday.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will be their "Third time lucky". Will Randall and Bel manage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am talking about a book in this chapter, Kill a mockingbird, some maybe know the movie with Gregory Peck. And the thing is, as this story plays in like 58/59, the book hadn't come out at that time. Only in 60 I think. The problem was, that, after Lee Harper had died recently, I had seen a documentation about her, and then at night I came up with the dialogue you will read and there was no other book that would have provided the necessary vibe for it, so I thought I leave it be. Fictional liberty. But I point it out before some of you will burn for it :D. 
> 
> Also always remember, this is playing in the 1950s. Some decisions people make seem ridiculous for us, and we wonder "why the hell do you give yourself such a hard time".

Three days later Randall stood by her door again, it was short before six, and aside Lix and Isaac Wengrow, who used the empty offices to keep writing on his sketches, everyone else was gone.

“I am leaving,” he announced, seeing she was still sorting through some papers, “would you like to join me, or…?”

They both remembered at this moment what they had talked about the last time when he had let her out at home. Third time lucky. This was their third time lucky — if Bel decided to come with him.

Before he had decided to leave and to ask her if she needed a lift, he had found himself redoing his tie two times, telling himself there was no reason to be worried or nervous. However, here he stood at her door, and the fingertips of his left hand drummed silently against the fabric of his trousers.

On the other side there was Bel, who had hoped she could postpone their “third time lucky” for another day, not because she was afraid of it, just because people did things like that. Didn't they? However, she hadn’t been able to leave earlier, and her eyes hurt, and the weather was still atrocious, so she was glad he asked, “I am not bothering you?”

“No,” he shook his head, licking his lips. “Of course not.”

They shared a knowing glance, and Bel needed to grin but said nothing about it. Instead, she nodded quickly and grabbed her coat, turned off the light, and followed him.

Watching him in the corner of his eye, she saw him touch his tie a few times, a sign he must be nervous. They behaved like children; Bel thought, stepping out of the lift.

When they finally sat in his car, Randall had put the key into the ignition, but made no attempt to turn the keys. Instead, he turned toward her, “Do you expect me to start the conversation this time, or? The silence is a bit odd.”

Bel turned her head toward him, “And that from you.”

“Somehow I assumed you would say that,” Randall answered. “As you are a good journalist, I can presume you have made a list of questions you want to ask me?”

“Uhm,” Bel stumbled. “I thought about questions, but I didn’t write them down. I didn’t plan an interrogation, Mister Brown.”

“I am glad you didn't. So you haven’t,” he then reached into the inside of his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I hope you don’t mind that I have. Fifteen in total, to be precise.”

Bel stared at him, unable to say something to it, her eyes wandering over his face, that had the expression it always had — very serious — and then over the piece of paper in his hands. It were over ten seconds, but Bel wasn’t able to come up with anything to say, so taken by surprise she was, “Oh.”

Randall waited another five seconds, before he unfolded the paper, and held it toward her. It was blank.

Frowning at it, she looked then at him, finding him smirk at her, and then he even winked. “That was— you pranked me!”

The paper wandered back into the pocket of his coat, “I am sorry.”

“I never thought you had such sense of humor in you, Mister Brown,” Bel chuckled and relaxed into the seat.

Starting the motor, he turned toward her, “Happens only twice a year, so don’t get used to it.”

Her answer was a laugh; she was glad he had made the joke because now the ice was broken and she could ask some questions she had thought about earlier, “What book are you reading at the moment?”

“I am rereading “Kill a Mockingbird”,” Randall said, having started it only two days ago when he had trouble falling asleep again. What sometimes happened, then when there was a full moon, too much trouble at work or simply his head couldn’t calm down, then he tossed about in his bed before giving up to get a book.

“Ah, Atticus,” Bel smiled fondly.

“Yes, Atticus,” he repeated, a bit baffled of the tone she used for it. Like mentioning an old friend. “You read it?”

“Yes, a few weeks ago,” it had been all over town, and the woman in the bookshop had told her, it was an instant classic. How could she not have read it. “What do you think? Why is the book such a success, aside obvious reasons?”

“Aside obvious reasons? You mean dealing with hot topics like race and inequality, something that touches still a nerve, even here in Great Britain?” he hummed, thinking about it while they waited for a green light. “It’s Atticus, isn’t it? The moral man, the integrity, the one who makes the right decision. And isn’t that what we all want to do? Doing the right thing. Even the bad people want to do the right thing, or they think they do it already. Atticus Finch is probably the one figure we all want to be -- but never can be.”

“Would you like to be like Atticus?” Bel asked him, happy he seemed delighted to talk with her about it.

“Atticus is a fictional character, Miss Rowley,” Randall wouldn’t reread the book if he wouldn’t feel close to it and the characters, and yet he needed to say it, “I believe, no one can be as noble as Atticus is in the book.”

The car slowly rolled down the street, reaching the spot in front of her place, and Bel wondered how they had been able to arrive here so fast.

She hummed, glancing up the building, counting the lights in silence, while thinking about Randall’s words, “Why not? Why can’t we be as noble as Atticus?”

“Because it’s a burden,” Randall said after a minute. “I don’t mean being noble is a burden; that’s maybe very easy when one decides to be always true, to always do what moral says it’s okay.

“The moment you make a wrong decision, the moment the moral decides for you, that it is wrong what you are doing, there it will become a burden. And from there one, every further decision will weigh on you.”

Bel knew what he was talking about, at least, had a hunch, “You say that because-”

“-because I speak from personal experience, Miss Rowley,” the car went silent, and Randall rubbed his cold hands together. “But I think you guessed that already.”

_Lix_ , it came to her, “You are not wrong. We all want to be like Atticus, but finding ourselves fail instead, and that is, indeed, a burden.”

She had inevitable thought about Rosa Maria, the young girl that had been killed while they had investigated around the Cilenti-case. Time had healed that wound, but sometimes Bel still found herself feeling guilty for her death. A scar, never really healing probably.

Randall saw her remember the young girl; he never had met or even seen but hadn't forgotten the lively discussions they had about her and the story they had wanted to bring.

When one knew how guilt felt, it was Randall. Yes, he had had his fair share of guilt in life, and he knew Bel was collecting very well too.

Gently he touched her by her elbow, “It’s not easy to be so honest and so true. That’s why not everyone can be like him, and you always have to remember, that trying is the main thing. As long as we attempt to be as Atticus, it divides us from the others. For them being untrue and dishonest is maybe a burden, but who have stopped caring long ago.”

Bel kept silent, thinking about his words, and the past. About what they all had endured in the past months. There had been not one who hadn’t suffered. They all, in the newsroom, had gone through quite a drama while they had investigated the Cilenti-case. For the fraction of a second, the picture of Freddie lying on the ground flickered to life in her head, and she quickly shook herself out of her silence and pushed the image away.

“Is it a problem?”

“Problem? What is?” Randall asked.

“That Lix saw us the other time,” Bel explained looking at his profile, seeing him purse his lips, and his forehead fell into wrinkles. There was a possibility the question was too daring, but Bel wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important to her.

If Randall would ask her in the future to drive her home, she not wanted him to feel obliged, or because of courtesy, but not felt not okay with it. “I had the impression that-”

“-It’s fine,” he said, his hand reaching out to the button for the radio, the one that controlled the radio station.

It wasn't on, but the button that had a red line on it, so one could see at what frequency it stood, was askew, and his fingers turned it slowly to bring it into a straight line with the rest of the buttons.

“We don’t have to do this if it is distressing for you,” Bel suggested.

“Why would it be?” he huffed, turning toward her and Bel thought he was getting distressed already. His expression was the one in the newsroom when Hector had showed up to late.

As it was her way, when she got overwhelmed or nervous, Bel’s mouth opened up, while her brain was still searching for the words, what made her look like a fish, but this time, she not wanted to let the matter go. Closing her mouth, she glared back at him, till he leaned back merely an inch.

“We both know, I know, so…,” Bel grumbled, “You and Miss Storm were involved, and we both know I have listened to the conversation you both had a few weeks ago, and I thought it might be distressing for you, now she knows you drive me home. I don’t know, it was just a thought, it’s not my intention to embarrass you. I only wanted to be …,” she stopped, not knowing what she had wanted.

“To be what?” he pressed annoyed.

“Give you a chance to back out,” she spat out. “If you only do this because it’s your sense of courtesy, then leave it be.”

It wasn’t about Lix. The problem was that Bel had seen him, that he had looked like it was a bother. That Lix had seen them, and that he had to drive her. Because he wanted to be polite and as convenient she thought that was; she rather had he would do it because of other reasons. That was something she couldn’t tell him. Mostly because she couldn’t admit it to herself.

Three times. He had driven her now three times and ridiculously enough, Bel had found it interesting and new. Something out of the boring order. It was not only more comfortable as to take the bus, which was loud and took forever, and was so impersonal, that she truly hated to take the bus — always had, not only since Randall had driven her home.

Yes, the last two times had been so different to something like perfect, but did she want that? Want have a conversation about work, or about the weather? Something standard, superficial? Or did she want to have conversations like about a book, like about Atticus, seeing Randall open up, hearing him talk and share his life experience with her. That it was, but she felt he just did it to be polite, like it seemed to be his character.

“So this is what you think?” Randall began, harsher as he had intended. “That I feel uncomfortable doing this?”

Bel hated herself at that moment, “When we are honest, you only asked me the first time because you had felt you’ve been impolite to me. Wasn’t it so?”

Immediately he wanted to disagree when he realized that she was right. The night he had asked her the first time, his intention had been to leave, and then he had felt guilty, only for a fraction of a second, but nevertheless he had returned and had asked her. He had felt obliged, but he not wanted to leave it to look like this, “Yes, I asked because of what had happened. But I can’t follow your concerns.”

Bel sighed, frustrated with everything. Her. The world. Freddie. Hector. Randall’s car. Randall.

“I can’t follow my own concerns,” she then said unnerved with herself, resting her elbow against the door, leaning her head against her hand. She felt like a pubertal girl, after having a fit over something useless, and now she was sure Randall would never ask her again if he should drive her, because why would he want to put up with someone like her? He had to put up with her already while they were working.

Instead of jumping out of his car, she just sat there waiting for him to tell her it would be better when she would now leave, or tell her that she was overreacting or that she was impossible. Men did that to her. Telling her it was her fault, and in this case, sadly, it was.

And then she heard Randall chuckle, and first she thought to hear ghosts, but when she turned her head, he was still laughing and looking at her, “A fault confessed is half redressed, Miss Rowley.”

“That’s why you are laughing? Because I showed insight?” she asked aghast, not ready to join him in his laughter.

“No, I am laughing, because it wasn’t me talking in riddles this time. It was you,” he explained smiling at her. “I know I didn’t look happy when Lix had showed up, but I seldom look happy, don’t I?" he let that sink in for a moment, before speaking on, "So, let me tell you one thing, and if you decide you would like to take the bus in the future, it’s fine for me. Be assured I never do, what I not want to do, and I am not embarrassed or annoyed or bothered in any way driving you.”

“Why do you do it then?" Bel wondered, not understanding.

“Because,” Randall hesitated, “I enjoy your company. We had quite a good talk today, hadn’t we?”

“You mean till I ruined it with my senseless doubts?” Bel shook her head; she would be angry about it for longer.

“It’s important to say what is on your mind, and it’s a talent to do it actually,” Randall’s hand came around the steering wheel, trailing around it. “I’d wish sometimes; I had your talents, Miss Rowley.”

Turning her head in astonishment about his comment, he only gave her a short glance, to nervous to face her for longer. A shy, distress smile flit across his face before he pursed his lips again, looking straight forward into the night.

Bel mused, in connection with his earlier comment, about making wrong decisions, that it had again to do with Lix and his past life. On the edge of asking or, at least, saying something, she saw his face get filled up with sorrow and his expression hardened from second to second.

No, Randall Brown wouldn’t say much more tonight. He had opened up enough; this would have been one step too much.

“Well,” she then began, slowly opening the door, “as I sometimes wish I had your talents of not being all too emotional, maybe we can learn from each other.”

She waited if he would say something, but he only nodded, and so she nodded too and opened the door of his car, “Good night.”

Randall sat there, watching her go around his car, over to the pavement, about to go down the little path to the door. First he wanted to drive away, but then he rolled down the window, calling for her, “Miss Rowley! I’ll… I’ll be working late tomorrow; I have to write some valuations. In case you work late too, you can… you can come by. I’d happily drive you home.”

The night was cold, and Bel held her coat tight around herself, while listening to Randall’s offer. Her tense expression eased away, a smile appearing on her face, and she nodded, unable to find better words.

He nodded too, scrolled the window back up, and then drove away.

Third time lucky sometimes worked.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll update on Randall Monday again. Thanks for the read! And don't hesitate to leave a comment.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel and Randall slowly get comfortable around each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes jump from Monday to Wednesday, or here from a Thursday to after the weekend. Right now I want to show the important bits. What means, what is with Randall and Bel's relationship, how do they start to behave around each other. Little episodes. I don't show you what is happening in the Newsroom, what international crisis's are happening, that is not my intention. So I call it "a thing" or "a happening".
> 
> Some of you, who have watched the show... I know Randall and Bel use their first name, she mostly calls him Randall, but I decided against it, and let them use their last names (till a certain point of course). Just in case you were wondering.
> 
> I mention a man named "McCain" here, he has worked for the prime minister in the show, and is homosexual what was basically a crime in the 50s. Randall and all the others knew, but they didn't reveal his secret, and so I can imagine him being sometimes nice to the hour - as he was a slimy bastard sometimes ;).

The next day

It was one of those days. Something had happened in the Middle East. Big thing. There were riots and protests in front of the British Embassy. It hit the newsroom unexpected, and they all gathered together quickly, throwing the topics they had for the next day over board, brainstorming what to do now.

They came to the conclusion that it was necessary to find someone from the foreign Embassy here in London, best the ambassador. They also needed to get film material and a statement from the government. Maybe McCain could help them out; aside he not worked for the Prime Minister anymore, he still had his contacts, and from time to time pointed them into the right direction.

Freddie and Hector started a discussion what question to ask and what the aim was. The two men quickly found themselves in a heated discussion that ended almost in a fight. The pressure was high these days, and aside both liked and respected each other they sometimes behaved like young competitors. Bel had to remind them more than once to keep it together.

Bel was unnerved by the situation, and tired -- exhausted in general. Hearing Freddie and Hector still complain about each other's tactic, she found herself standing on the corridor, listening to the hectic of the office. Suddenly the noise was all too much. The hammering of the news tickers and typewriters sounded like machine gun fire in her ears. Groaning she rubbed her temples — she needed a break.

Glancing up, she saw the door of Randall’s office, and without thinking, she stepped up to it and knocked. Waiting two seconds, she entered, and closed the door quickly behind her, before settling with her body against the wooden door letting out a long sigh.

Silence, wonderful silence, she thought, finding Randall sit at his desk, a pen in hand, looking expectant at her when she opened her eyes again.

“I…, I just wanted to say, we might get the ambassador,” she quickly covered up her main reason — hiding — for her being in his office. “Isaac is at McCain, and when we are lucky, Hector and Freddie will not kill each other.” She ended with another lengthy sigh, not ready to leave yet.

“That’s good,” Randall nodded, and they both shared an awkward silence before he leaned a bit back, his outstretched hand brushing over the surface of the desk. "It’s quite an advantage, this office, isn’t it?”

“Advantage? What is?”

Randall placed the pen down, and raised a finger to his ear, “The silence. So, take a seat.” He gestured toward his Freudian sofa.

Flustered by his observations skills, she slowly came closer to the couch, staring down at it. Close to just flop down and take a timeout, but she didn’t dare, not in front of Randall.

“I am hiding,” she admitted with a shy smile, rubbing her temples again. “It’s like a playground that went out of control. And my headache is not helping, but I didn't want to complain or cry on your shoulder, sorry.”

“You don’t have to excuse yourself, Miss Rowley,” he took the pen again in hand, shuffling some papers around, before beginning to read the article he had been at before Bel had come in.

Watching him, she perceived he had no intention of telling her to leave. An offer for refuge.

"There is a reason my doors are closed mostly,” he added, circling a typo without looking up, and Bel smiled knowingly.

In the past she had always been very keen on leaving his office again after they had their talks and discussions, or when she had sensed it made no sense to push for something. Now she savoured every second, allowing the silence and the order of the room make her calm again, and her headaches slowly ease away.

Letting her eyes travel over his bookshelf and the many books, she spotted a gap, frowning at first, before knowing this was probably Lix’s work, “She steals your books, you know that?”

Randall had read over the article, only to become aware, that he wasn’t with it at all, but with Bel and her presence in the room. He didn’t let it show, but he knew he had to reread the paper later, and it was fine for him.

He had heard his anchormen getting into the discussion when he had left the conference room, and when Bel had come in, he had been able to read in her expression what was the matter.

Placing the pen aside again, he looked first at Bel, then the bookshelf. He had noted the gap the day before.

Standing up, he came around the desk, stepping aside but slightly behind Bel, both now looking at the gap in the shelf.

Bel felt his proximity, wondering what he was trying to do, when he reached forward, slightly brushing against her, placing a finger by the gap. A tap against the book left and right from it, he nodded, and turned around to her, “I know. That’s what she does.”

They stood almost shoulder by shoulder, facing each other, and Bel felt his eyes settled on her, prying. It made her swallow hard, and she felt heat rushing through her ears. She was blushing.

“She calls it borrowing,” Randall then said with a smirk, when it knocked at the door, followed by four people tumbling into the room.

Lix, Isaac, Hector and Freddie, everyone talking at once. Lix telling them, that they will get film material, but she couldn’t say if it would arrive on time for the show.

Isaac hectically explaining that McCain was out of town, and asking what he should do next, and Freddie and Hector were still quarrelling over the interview.

Before Bel or Randall could answer, they started to discuss with each other, hands waving, voices loud, smoke being puffed into the face of the other and fingers pointed at each other.

Sharing an understanding glance, Bel inhaled deeply, giving Randall a smirk, and he smirked back, then she turned toward the group, “People! Guys!” They all quiet down, turning to her, “Isaac! Find out where McCain is. Send him a darn telegram when needed, I don’t care. Lix, you go back on the phone, and give them a little pressure, I think you can do that, and if needed we send someone over to the airport, picking it up instead of letting it delivered to the studio. And you two,” she turned to Freddie and Hector, “if you don’t find an agreement, I let Isaac do the interview, and you two will watch from the sideline!”

“What?” they both exclaimed, for once that day agreeing on a subject.

“Isaac? Sorry, no offence, but... ,” Hector protested and Isaac looked at the three of them in pure horror.

“Me?” the young man put a hand on his chest.

Bel was close to lose her patience, and Randall was the only one seeing it, “What Miss Rowley is trying to say, is,” he raised his voice, “this is not a playground, it’s a newsroom. We are doing serious news, and you are all serious journalists, and I expect from each of you that he or she is able to make independent decisions from time to time. Aside, Miss Rowley has proposed very good solutions already. So would you mind?” he pointed at the door. “We had an important conversation here.”

Bel almost stared with an open mouth at him, while the others grumbled away, leaving the room.

“I can’t do that, I probably faint,” they could hear Isaac whine and Lix answering, “Oh, Mister Wengrow, I am sure you would do wonderfully," then the door fell shut again, and Bel and Randall broke into an unobtrusive laugh.

“Thank you,” Bel turned to him, and he shook his head telling her it was okay. One last time she took a deep breath, enjoying the silence before she tucked at her jacket, ready to face the real world again, "I see you later then,” she turned, looking forward to the evening.

With that Randall and Bel settled into a comforting routine of him driving her home from time to time. Sometimes they used the time to talk about work when it was necessary, but most of the time they talked about this and that.

Bel told him, she hadn’t been into a play or the cinema for so long now, and Randall had to admit, that he hadn’t seen a cinema from the inside for quite a long time. He used to watch old movies in the telly, and Bel tried to make him tell her what the last movie was he had seen in the cinema.

“I don’t know why that is important,” Randall hem and hawed.

“Come on, Mister Brown, would you rather have a conversation about the Middle East?” Bel chuckled, feeling he was embarrassed, but she had found out, that if she just overlooked it, he would get over it.

“Yes, to be honest,” and Bel gave him an encouraging look. “Fine. Don’t laugh. The Adventures of Robin Hood.”

Bel frowned, “The Adventures of Robin Hood? Which one?”

“The one with Errol Flynn!” Randall revealed, sighing long.

Bel calculated when the movie had been in the cinema, and then burst into laughter, “That was before the war, Mister Brown!”

Randall tried to keep his composure, struggling with his embarrassment as much with the fact, that Bel’s amusement was about to infect him, “Was it? Well, then,” he couldn’t hold back any longer and joined her laughter, even he was more smiling as cackling.

And while Bel had to place both her hands over her mouth, to stop herself from laughing, Randall found himself looking at the fine wrinkles around her eyes and that he was not smiling because he hadn’t been in the cinema so long and it was a funny story in the end, but because he found joy in Bel and her delight.

His smile faded, a strange feeling befalling him, and Bel quickly reacted, believing he was now mad at her.

“I am sorry, I promised I wouldn’t laugh,” she cleared her throat, but wasn’t able to shake her amusement all up, “It was not my intention-”

“-It was in the Spanish Civil War,” Randall quickly interrupted, knowing it was better to ignore what was going on inside him, shifting the conversation away from it, “Someone had organised a film projector and this movie. It wasn’t even a cinema, just the bar where we all hung around in the evening.”

His voice had the seriousness it always had, but Bel noted the blank stare, that indicated, that there was something more to it. That there was a missing piece in his story.

That they had lost a good man that day, a photographer, shot in the back and the only thing they could all do had been drinking and after the famous five minutes of grief, they watched that movie. They all had tried to push it away, to not remember that at home now a wife and two kids would grow up without a father.

Randall never had been that drunk again in his whole life, like at this evening. Lix and a colleague had to carry him to bed, while he had sobbed in grief over all the people who had died under his reporting eyes. The next day he had done, as if he couldn’t remember, but he did.

“Uhm,” she wanted to come up with words of comfort, or, at least, something else as her repetitive excuses. “He died recently. Errol Flynn.”

She had read it somewhere in a newspaper, in the feuilleton. Remembering some old movies she had seen as a child. Looking back at it she always thought such movies were just silly, but she had watched them with her Mother and Father, and so she had fond memories of it.

“Yes, I read about,” Randall answered, finding it now a strange coincidence. “What was your last film in the cinema?”

“On the Beach,” she explained, having watched it with Freddie who had urged her for days to go, as it was a film about the atomic menace, and he so wanted to see it. She had hated that film.

“Rather depressing,” Randall only commented.

“Yes, it was North by Northwest or On the Beach, and Freddie had been insistent that the latter was more important to watch as a this overwroughtspy movie how he called it,” Bel huffed, remembering his tirade about it. He probably had been just not okay with the fact, that Bel liked Cary Grant so much.

“It’s a good movie,” Randall had seen it on the telly a couple of weeks ago, having nothing better to do at that evening, finding himself gripped by the story. He liked Cary Grant, knowing the man was everything Randall wasn’t.

“Damn,” Bel shrugged. “And that for Freddie and a depressing movie. Enough said. It’s late. Have a good night," she turned once more toward him. "Thanks for telling me. I see you tomorrow.”

“Miss Rowley,” Randall nodded, touched by her words. Again he waited till she had reached her apartment safely before driving home.

 

Tuesday

When the telephone rang in her office, she thought it was a call from one of the correspondences she already waited the whole day for, and so she ran back to her office, grabbing the receiver, a bit breathless, “Yes?”

“Oh, hello, Bel!” Bel frowned, not knowing who it was. It wasn’t the call she had expected. “It’s me, Camille.”

“Camille!” sudden shock ran through Bel, and as she was leaning half over her desk, she felt not only mentally uncomfortable. “Just a moment, please.” She walked around her desk, taking a deep breath before sitting down and putting the receiver back to her ear, “Sorry, how can I help you? You want to talk to Freddie? He is down in the studio.”

“Oh, no,” she could sense Camille was as nervous as herself, “I wanted to talk to you, or more I wanted to ask you over for dinner tonight.”

“Camille…,” why did this phone call remind her of Marnie, calling her, back when she had the affair with Hector? Camille had asked her to come over for dinner, over Freddie, at least a dozen times, and every time Bel had welched out by telling she was busy or by saying she would come over soon, but not today. Lame excuses. They all knew that.

“Please! I know you are a busy woman, but it’s just a short dinner. I wanted to simply thank you for staying at Freddie’s side, back in the hospital when I couldn’t be there,” Camille explained. “I promise I won't keep you up too long, but please come.”

Bel sighed, it was evident, that it was important for Camille, and Bel always had trouble declining such honest offers, “I’ll come. Tonight? I probably can’t be there before 6:30.”

“Oh, wonderful, and it’s no problem,” Camille laughed up in relieve. “I am looking forward to it!”

Then the conversation ended, and Bel fell back into her stool, already knowing it was a mistake to go, but she had to finally do it. Then the duty was done.

“You alright?” and of course it was Freddie who peeked inside her office. “Something happened?”

“No, no, nothing,” she quickly composed herself, smiling at him. “Camille just called.”

“Oh, yes, she told me she would,” Freddie smirked, with a touch of guilt, “And? Could she convince you to come over?”

Bel gave him a glare, “Yes, she could. Why didn’t you tell me, she would call?”

“Because then you wouldn’t have answered the bloody phone! You know that,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, giving her his typical whimsical grin. “And now come on, I need to show you something in the studio. Isaac has come up with another sketch!”

“Oh, bloody hell!” Bel groaned but followed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapter break is not perfect here, but it was either too short or too long, so...
> 
> The films I am talking about here are all real films and they all came out the year I mention them in. 
> 
> I will probably update on Thursday again.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel follows the dinner invitation of Freddie's wife. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Update, and now we getting a bit more serious with all the drama.

At six Bel sat at her desk, typing the last part in a letter, before falling into the rest of her stool with a huff. Glancing at the watch, she knew she had to get ready when she wanted to be at Freddie and Camille on time. Not that she wanted, but she had promised, and she had known earlier she couldn't welsh out again.

A soft knock on her door let her look up, "You look exhausted," Randall stood there, his coat over his arm. He was about to leave.

A smile spread across her face, seeing him there. The dinner invitation had on her mind all day, and so there were only worries and an uncomfortable feeling with her all day long. Now, seeing Randall stand there, her heart felt suddenly lighter. Best she wanted to grab her coat and let him drive her home.

Instead, she ruffled her hair, "A little bit, it's… Camille, Freddie's wife, she asked me to come over for dinner -- today."

Randall hummed, not saying more, just watching her stand up, gathering her stuff together. She made no secret out of it — readable in her body language — that she didn't want to go there.

Bel gave his wise sounding hum a laugh, “You know that’s what a shrink does, this “saying everything but nothing at all”-hum?”

He smirked, stepping inside, taking her coat from the hanger to hold it out to her, "It's obvious you not want to go, but there is an obligation somewhere. Let me take a guess, you're avoiding this since --weeks?"

"Months," she slipped her arms into her coat, thanking him. "As you say it, I have to go, so or so. If not today, then tomorrow. Camille wants to thank me, for being at Freddie's side when he was in the hospital. It would be rude not to come. And I do like her."

"So I take, you will take the bus?" Randall didn't know what else to say. He had met Camille twice, and that was back in Paris, shortly before they all had left to London.

"Yes," Bel grabbed her purse, but making it clear in her tone, she would rather leave with him. "It's the other direction, so…," for a moment she wanted to tell him, to wish her luck, but then the only thing she said was; "Good night."

Randall nodded, wishing her the same, and Bel watched him go down to the lift while she went to the ladies to check her make-up once more.

When she came back out of it, she could see that the lift had reached the first floor. Why she rather wanted to sit aside Randall, maybe even have one of their awkward talks, instead of being with her best friend and his wife, was confusing to her. Brushing it away, she sped up to reach the bus.

Twenty minutes later she found herself in front of the open staircase, rubbing her fingers together. She was nervous. Could she do this? Could she get through the evening without any emotional damage?

"Christ," Bel uttered, knowing it didn't matter if she went today or tomorrow or next month, she never would be able to get through the evening without feeling any hurt or disappointment.

Time heals all wounds, yes, but scars could hurt too. "Just get it over with!" she told herself, climbing the stairs. Gladly she had a bottle of vodka in her freezer; she was sure she would need it later. This evening would be horrible.

 

Later that evening

It had been horrible because there was no other way this could have gone. Because it had been doomed from the moment on Bel had stood at the staircase for the first time, all those long months ago. Finding out Freddie had married, without ever telling her.

The past had repeat itself, in a cynic way, as Bel found. She had climbed the stairs, had knocked, and Camille was overexcited that she had come.

"I am so happy to see you!" the woman had kissed her three times on the cheek like French did. Freddie gave her a short hug and a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

The food had been delicious, French cuisine, Camille had been nice, and Freddie had been lovely, telling little stories and for once he wasn't an idiot.

The problem had been, that after Bel had entered the flat and they had made their hellos, they all shared a little drink before the food would be served.

A drink, nothing big, a little drink. Freddie took one; Bel had one in hand and Camille — was drinking orange juice. Orange juice.

The secret uncovered, and so Camille told Bel excited about the news. And Freddie held his wife in his arms, smiling proudly, nodding, as if it was necessary that he confirmed it all.

The smile on Bel's face froze, and while Camille told her about being pregnant for now four weeks, something in Bel broke. She believed she and everyone else must have heard it — the breaking.

"Wow," she urged herself saying something, "that's amazing." If Khrushchev decided to drop the H-Bomb at this very moment, she would consider to call him and thank him for it.

 

The rest of the evening went by in a blur.

At home again, Bel found herself sitting on her sofa, an old comedy flickering over the telly. While the Marx Brothers giggled wildly on telly, Bel sobbed into one corner of her blanket. The glass of vodka half empty, aside her. The bottle next to it.

It had been like on of those plays that started out all funny and happy, till the moment, it wasn't funny anymore. Till everything began to collapse, and the catastrophe was happening.

After the big revelation of them getting a baby, Camille had served dinner and took the chance to tell her she had been so glad that she had looked after Freddie when he was in the hospital, and herself had been in Paris.

Yes, Paris.

Camille had been in stupid Paris with her revolutionary friends, when a message got to her, that her husband — he still was — had been beaten up -- almost to death. After the shock had eased away, she had jumped into a train, finding Freddie in the hospital bed, unconscious. He had been unconscious for almost three weeks and most of the time Bel had been there, and now Camille was there, and Freddie had woken two days later.

What could Bel do, aside leaving them alone? They were married, and Camille had cried on her shoulder like crazy, telling her about their fights, her jealousy and that's why she had left to France. That she loved Freddie, and Bel kept to herself what had happened in her absence.

Had hoped Freddie would say something, would tell her how it was, but either he did and had decided he was better with Camille or he hadn't, deciding the same. He couldn't have forgotten, could he?

Things can change so fast, Bel knew. In her job, it gave her this kick, made her tick, as Randall once had demanded. In her life, it was devastating and exhausting. Why could there be no reliability in life?

Now, with such news, there was suddenly an empty void in front of Bel. Crying, she drained the glass and sank into the cushions. Hopefully, even the sadness would need a break sooner or later.

 

The next morning

The next day Randall noticed Bel was a little absent. It was a slow day, and she stayed mostly in her office doing paperwork. It felt to him like hiding and that it probably was. She had only come in at half past nine, excusing herself that the bus had been late.

 

There had been a faint hint of alcohol on her; only Randall was able to smell. Underappreciated talent, one got, when not touching alcohol. Her eyes, red and small, spoke volumes to him, but he said nothing, just nodded.

She worked late a lot and half an hour was no drama. The rest was none of his business. Also, he guessed the evening hadn't gone the way she had hoped it would.

In the evening, he asked her if she needed a ride, and she had agreed with a nod and without asking him her usual question if it would bother him. That should have been a sign, but he was just glad she had decided to stop asking because he was close telling her, she should stop ask such questions.

While he drove, Bel said nothing at all, only stared out of the window, and for once it was him who felt uncomfortable in the silence.

Something heavy laid over them, particular over her, like dark clouds. A graveyard was more fun; he thought for a moment. The vibes, he got from her, felt depressing.

A few times he was about to ask her what was the matter, but every time the courage left him, and he thought he imagined things.

Sure, it had to do with the evening before, no one needed to be a Sherlock Holmes for that, but as Randall knew Bel was still fighting with her feelings for Freddie, it was probably naturally that she felt down.

He was aware, from own experience, that people went to events, hoping for another outcome — only to be disappointed afterward.

About to reach the spot by her apartment building where he usually let her out, he was close to turning toward her and ask her what the hell the matter was.

As Randall was Randall and not Cary Grant, he didn't and just let the motor die and waited.

Bel glanced up, seeing her building, almost surprised, and settled her hands into her lap. He could see her bite the inside of her cheeks and then it seemed she finally was about to say something.

“Can I ask you a …. a question?”

"You can, but I can't promise you I'll be able to answer it," he said, sensing it was not a work related question that waited for him. Aside he was happy she finally talked; he already feared what would come next.

Bel shuffled in her seat for a moment, unsure if she not better should keep quiet. She knew there was no one else to ask, and Randall was her best chance, and so she just sighed and started; "It's absolutely theoretically, but … imagine there is a woman you like and she likes you and then the woman is away for a bit, and comes then back, married. What-"

"-I' actually not good at such conversations," Randall interrupted his hands in his lap. "I don't think I am the person you should talk with about this." He scolded himself, knowing it was a horrible thing to say, but what could he say? He couldn't help her. He had told her to move on; he had no better advice.

Bel bit her lips, cursing in silence about her stupid idea to ask Randall Brown for help. The man wasn't exactly an open book or known for tips about relationships. He was talented in giving riddlesome pieces of advice, but that was all. She was unable to look over to him and pressed her purse into her lap and stomach.

The day had been pure horror. She had woken to late, hungover, and worst she didn’t had any guilt for showing up late for work. When Hector could do it for half a year, she could do it once in a lifetime.

The rest of the day was just her typing and reading as much as possible, keeping her head and heart away from the nagging feelings. The little whispers that wanted to tell her how stupid she had been all those weeks of having still this tiny little hope of Freddie coming to her. Instead, that!

"You are right, I am sorry," she babbled quickly. "I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't make my business to yours. I bothered you, that's unacceptable," her right hand reached for the door handle, "I am sorry Mister Brown, I'll see you tomorrow."

“Wait!” he reached out, grabbing lightly for her forearm. “I…, I not wanted to be rude.”

Bel leaned back into the seat, her hand not letting go of the handle, “You were honest, it’s a rare trade. It’s fine.”

"No, it's not," he wasn't sure what to say next, but he knew he had to face her and so he shifted in his seat, "I can't tell you what to do about Mister Lyon. Don't look so surprised, it is about him, I am not dense, I have eyes and even I don't look like it, I see and know what happens in my office and around it," his thoughts went wild.

Suddenly all at once wanted to come out. Hadn't he said it was none of his business? So why it was now obvious to him, that a part of him, had thought about Bel Rowley and her troubles a bit too often?

"It's a decision you have to make, Miss Rowley, and I can't help you with it. All I know is that Mister Lyon has apparently made a choice a while ago. And it seems it wasn't the one you were expecting, but as I see it, -- he will not leave his wife for you."

"You don't have to talk on Mister Brown, I know," Bel again tugged at the lever. Randall couldn't know about Camille's condition, about the fact that Bel had broken inside. And as close she was to yell it out, she bit so hard into the inner of her cheeks, that she would not, "Again, I am sorry, I bothered you."

"You didn't, and never will."

Finally, she let go of the lever and turned to him.

"The thing is," Randall went on, "you have two possibilities — and I am going to tell them to you, even if you don't want to hear them. You either keep hoping he will come to you, will make those admissions you hope for ever since, and be hurt because he never will say them to you."

"How can you be so sure?" It was a daft question to ask, but Bel was curious, what he had to say about it. What made him so special to know the answer to such a question, which moved so many people.

"I can't be sure," Randall admitted, knowing that the next words he would say to her, would not be pleasing, or make her heart better. All to the contrary, "It's just a bit of advice. You have to ask yourself how long you are already waiting and who suddenly turned up with a wife by his side. Rash decision or not, Mister Lyon might love you, but he might not love you enough."

Bel was close to getting over her embarrassment and start crying in front of him.

"Your honesty is quite brutal when I may say that," Bel reached for her hair, checking it's fit, hoping to keep the urging tears for a few more minutes under control.

"That's the thing with honesty," Randall said, looking down, at first, sensing she was close to tears, before looking at her profile, "it usually always is."

After a moment, Bel laughed up, "What is your following advice?" and faced him with a grim expression, because it was her way of showing him, he nor Freddie wouldn't be able to hurt her. Yes, she would step out of his car, and cry herself to sleep tonight, but _not_ in front of him or any other man.

"You move on. You make yourself in charge, and accept the facts, even they hurt you," he said.

"That's something I am doing already — moving on," Bel lied.

He took off his glasses and held them motionlessly in his hand, "Do you? It doesn't look like it to me."

"You are not good with such conversations," Bel snapped. "I am grateful for your advice, but now I think you are overstepping your boundaries," she opened the door. "Good night."

When Randall heard the door go shut again with a bang, he winced. When she passed his side, something burst to life in him. Jumping out of the car he called over the roof toward Bel, "Mister Lyon has made a choice I only can title him a fool for! I know you care about him, deeply, and he cares about you deeply, but a man letting _you_ go, is obviously not in love with you, or a fool, or both! I don't know Mister Lyon enough, to be a judge of it -- but I guess for the latter."

She had listened to his words; her back turned to him while she had fumbled with the key her hand. He was right, somewhere he was, and she was angry at him for it.

"Why are you doing this?" she swirled around the key falling to the ground, the chain chiming, "You could have driven away, and now you stand there giving me words of advice on how to live my life. Why? And don't say, because I asked you too. I might not know you very well, but what I know about you is, that a Randall Brown never does something he doesn't want to do."

He licked his lips before answering, pushing for a little time, "I have a duty of care, and I just don't want to see you getting hurt."

Here he was again, about to say something riddlesome. Was that even a word? Sometimes she wondered if she had invented a new word, only because of him. Bel stayed silent.

"What I said in the office, a few weeks ago, about Mister Lyon, it was disrespectful. Whatever relationship you both have or had, is between you and him. Also, there is no denial, as I have watched your behavior since the attack on Mister Lyon and his consequential stay at the hospital. I am not good with cars, and also not good with people, but I am a good observer — can't help it," his hands trailed over the edge of the open door.

Bel watched him; there was something he wanted to say. There should be something after the "can't help it", but nothing came. And just when Bel was about to ask him, what it was, he gave her shy smile, wishing her a good night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update, planned, Randall Monday! I hope you enjoy this story. I will not stop writing it, I have too much fun, even nobody is reading it *haha* *Sighs* ;)


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news from Freddie hit Bel hard. She knows she has to overcome him, but it's hard on her own. But is she? On her own?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update for Randall Monday!

Days passed, and Bel was a mess on the inside, barely keeping up the charade on the outside that everything was okay. In the evening, she slumped down on her sofa, drank vodka or some Martini or both, and watched whatever was running in the telly, till she fell asleep crying.

 

At work, she showed up on time but mostly hid in her office, doing as if she had to do relevant paperwork, what was only half true.

She attended the conferences she had to, gave the orders she had to, but there was no more verve in her.

When Freddie or Lix told her they would give in the articles a bit late, she just shrugged and said, “Fine."

  
  


As her plan was staying at work as long as possible, to hinder her head from thinking, she had stopped being unnerved by there ways.

 

It didn’t go by unnoticed. One afternoon Freddie stood in her office, and asked her if everything was okay, and Bel was barely able to give him a smile, telling him everything was.

 

“It’s just the paperwork, horrible,” she pointed at some stacks aside her. “Really, it’s fine. How is Camille? How does it go?”

 

“She has morning sickness,” he explained. “The usual, but aside that she is fine. She has her next doctor appointment tomorrow.”

 

“Great. Let me know how it goes,” desperately she tried to get a new blank paper into the typewriter, and had to give up because something was not working.

 

“Bel-”

 

“-Freddie, it’s okay. I am very happy for you! I am,” she assured pleading with her looks, he would finally leave again.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and left, but not without turning around one more time.

He was happy becoming a father, and he believed Bel meant her wishes sincere, but something was wrong. He had done something to their friendship and knew sooner or later they would have to talk about it.

When Camille told her that evening about her pregnancy, Freddie had been able to see something break in Bel, and he felt so sorry for her. He genuinely cared for Bel, and he loved her, but they would never have a future. Sooner or later they would fight over everything. The show, his way of doing things, that he was so reckless.

Freddie knew he never would change, it might not be the last time they would find him beaten up, half dead, and that he couldn’t do to Bel. He loved her so much; he didn't want her to suffer that again.

  
  
  


Randall observed Bel from afar, keeping a bigger distance as usual, and it seemed Bel didn’t even notice. He saw how she retreated into her work, and how exhausted she was in the morning, after an evening with alcohol and a night with restless hours of no sleep.

 

It made him wonder what the reasons were, and that this couldn’t be because of an uncomfortable dinner with Freddie and his wife. For a short moment, he considered it was his fault because of what he had said a few days before, but Bel was not the type to break on that.

She would have shown up in his office, telling him her opinion. So something else was the matter, but he didn’t know how to get to it, how to get to her. He drove her once more during this time, and she made pleasantry talk with him, all work related, and made quick goodbyes when they reached her apartment, as nothing had ever happened.

 

The situation unnerved him. Seeing her suffer made his heart ache, but what could he do? Ordering her to his office, telling her she should speak with him about it would probably only do the contrary, or would release emotions he wasn’t ready for.

So he was grateful when he saw that Lix went to her office one day, closing the door, and didn’t come out for quite a while.

  
  


“Listen, darling,” Lix closed the door and shut the blinds. “Either you are going to tell me or…”

 

Bel glanced up, “Or what? You’re going to sit here all day?”

 

Lix dragged on her cigarette, “Yes, that’s a good plan. What the hell has happened?”

 

“Nothing has,” Bel snapped, but Lix knew her and just gave her glare. “It’s just... who cares?”

 

“I do,” Lix settled down into a chair in front of her. “Freddie?”

 

The blond sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling ridiculous for it, “Freddie.”

 

“Oh, what has the boy done now?” Lix pushed, having seen that her friend stood all aside her for the last few days. Bel reminded her of herself when she had been young and naive, all in love with a boy in a local school she had gone to. She considered Bel a wonderful person, a powerful and talented producer, but when it came to Freddie and, therefore, love, Bel was not half as tough as Lix considered herself.

 

“A few days ago, Camille invited me over,” Bel began slowly, “for dinner. A thank you, for my being there when Freddie had been in the hospital.”

 

Lix guessed that this wasn’t the reason for Bel’s mood, “So?” The smoke of her cigarette slowly drifted upward, against the ceiling and Bel watched the wades of smoke.

 

“Camille is pregnant,” Bel finally spilled the beans.

 

Lix gasped, the hand with the cigarette dropping down. The ash falling to the floor. That were news. “Are you sure?”

 

“Of course, I am sure!” Bel exclaimed outraged Lix considered she made it up. “They told me! Like the perfect couple they are.”

 

Lix stubbed out the fag, “Oh, Bel, I am so sorry-”

 

“-He kissed me,” the first tears of the day started to roll down her cheek, and Bel quickly grabbed for a tissue. “I know you want to repeat yourself, that I should get over him, but - - he kissed me!”

 

“When?”

 

“Short before … when we did the Cilenti-case. Camille was into Paris, and he told me she had left him, and that he didn't care, and then he kissed me,” she sniffed. “I mean, this meant something, didn’t it? You don’t kiss someone, not like that, and then you return to your wife.”

 

Lix stood up and brought her stool to the desk to sit aside Bel, bringing an arm around her, “What did he say his reasons were?”

 

“I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it yet, and probably never will.”

 

“Shit,” Lix muttered. “Stupid boy! How could he? You have to talk to him about it!”

 

“No!” Bel leaned back. “What for, Lix? It’s too late! Now it is too late! I was stupid, so stupid for not saying anything. That’s so me! Keeping everything to myself, instead of making a point. It’s my fault.”

 

“Oh, shut up! It’s not! Only because we are women, it doesn’t mean we have to take the blame,” Lix leaned forward toward Bel’s drawer in her desk, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Without asking her, she poured in two small sips into two little glasses. “Here.”

 

Lix waited till Bel had drunk it down, before she drank her glass, both making a grimace, “I could give you an advice, but you won’t like it.”

 

Bel laughed sarcastically, having a deja-vu, “Let me guess, I have to move on.”

 

“Yes, Freddie will not leave her, not now,” Lix wanted to help her so desperately but couldn’t.

 

“I know, I damn well know,” Bel grabbed for the bottle again and poured another glass with the dark liquid. “I don’t know how. I wish I knew how, but I don’t.”

 

“Have you considered taking a holiday?”

 

“A holiday?” Bel exclaimed as if Lix just had suggested something indecent. “I can’t take a vacation!"

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because…, because,” Bel could take a holiday. She hadn’t had one since a year. Her contract allowed her some off time, she simply never had used that chance. What for? She was happy in her job; she didn’t need a holiday. “I think I shouldn’t take an off time. We live in tense times. A lot is going on. A cold war for example!”

 

Lix groaned, “Darling, the cold war will be still there when you come back from holidays. I am sure we could manage a week or two without you.”

 

“Lix, really, thanks, but…,” the truth was, she needed a holiday. It was long overdue. They all had one in the past couple of months, except her and Randall.

 

“But nothing, Bel!" Lix placed the bottle and the glasses back into the hiding place. "I think it would do you good. Not because you need a break from work, but from Freddie. Believe someone old as me; sometimes it’s wise to run away — even only for a week or two.”

 

Bel sighed, yes Lix was right, but it was hard to admit it and even harder to say she wanted a holiday. She had tried Randall’s patience enough while Freddie had been in the hospital and as he hadn’t a leave in the last year, she didn’t dare to take one. The people in the higher floors would surely talk about it. Would say she was weak. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

 

The older woman frowned at her, knowing very well, why Bel was so hard with herself, and knowing very well too, that Bel never would ask for a few days off, except it would be an emergency. That her health and heart were in a state of crisis, the younger woman unmistakably didn’t understand.

 

“Do that, darling. Do it intensely!”

  
  


Randall watched Lix leave Bel’s office, and quickly reacted, stepping up behind her, “Miss Storm, my office please,” and tugged her gently by the arm, to imply he would not allow a no.

 

“What’s the matter with you?” Lix turned when he had closed the door behind him.

 

“With me? Nothing,” he shuffled unsure on the spot, indecisive if it was better to shove his hands into his pockets or not. Lix watched his little dance, knowing he was about to say something, and so she just waited till he would open his mouth when Randall caught sight of the gap in his bookshelf again. Pointing at it, he said, “You took one of my books again.”

 

“Yes,” Lix answered, a bit amused over his behavior. “Randall, what’s going on? That’s not the reason you drag me into your office like we are planning to overthrow the government.”

 

“No, of course not,” he hated it. Why had it to be Lix? “Straightforward. What’s with Miss Rowley? I know you have talked with her, and now I want to know what is the matter, because something is the matter, and if you are not going to tell me…”

 

“I am glad you have a plan B, Randall, dear, because I’m not going to tell you,” Lix crossed her arms in front of her making Randall sigh angrily.

 

“Miss Storm!”

 

“Mister Brown!” she frowned at him, wondering what had gotten into him. “Why do care anyway?”

 

“Because… what do you mean? It’s clear there is something off!” he pointed into the room. “I can’t allow that.”

 

“Oh, you can’t allow that?” Lix shook her head. “Why not, because she has a bad week? God Christ, Randall, the girl hasn’t taken a vacation since a year at least. She works late almost every day and only because she doesn't work herself to death for you, you’re making demands.”

 

“I am not making any demands!” He stepped behind his desk, glaring at a book that laid there. “I am worried; that’s all there is.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since, -- I am not as heartless as I look, Lix,” Randall felt disappointed that she saw him like this, but he also knew it was his fault.

 

Lix felt she was too hard on him, “I didn’t say that it’s just unusual for you.”

 

“Is there something we can do? I can do?” he fiddled now with the book, it was the same book he had thrown across the room, against the wall when he had heard the news about Sofia’s death.

 

Lix considered him for a moment, surprised he was interested in Bel’s worries. As she knew Randall drove her from time to time, she guessed that he had stopped seeing her only as his producer but as a human being, “I don’t think so. And I am not going to tell you what is the matter because I am sure you could figure it out yourself when you just would open your eyes or better; ask her.”

 

“Ask her?” The idea was too much of a dare for him at the moment.

 

“Yes, that means-”

 

“-Spare me your cynic comments, Lix!” Randall raised his hands, looking suddenly like a predator while he went through the happenings of the past days. “It’s the boy, isn’t it? Freddie?”

 

“Yes,” Lix nodded, turning toward the door again. If Randall was interested in helping Bel and interested in what had happened, he would find a way. Randall always had figured out a way to get to the point he wanted to get. “In case it helps, a holiday might be the right thing for Bel,"

Lix added meaningfully, and he acknowledged it with a firm nod without giving away what he thought about such idea.

 

After that, Lix left, and Randall sank into his chair, considering the situation. He wanted to help Bel but didn’t know how. She needed distance from Freddie, and from the job, but ordering her to stay home for a week wouldn’t help.

Then the telephone rang, and when their correspondence told him about a situation that was starting to heat up in Southampton, because of strikes and protests, a plan began to forge in his head.

 

After hanging up the phone, his eyes stuck with the gap that the missing book in his shelf caused, biting the inner of his cheek. Randall had an idea, maybe not the best, but it was a start.

Stepping outside his office, he stopped Isaac, who was passing by, telling him to tell everyone else there would be a conference in ten minutes, “I need them all there!”

 

“Yes, Mister Brown,” and Isaac paced around, getting everyone into the conference room.

  
  
  


“A strike is coming up in Southampton, the shipbuilders fight since weeks for better loan and living conditions,” Randall explained to them all. “And now the situation gets heated up. It’s expected to get serious when you all know what I mean. It’s only a matter of time, till the prime minister has to show up there and has to do something about it.”

 

“As it seems, you already have a plan?” Bel looked at him.

 

“Yes,” he gave her a quick smile and then turned to Freddie. “Mister Lyon, you’ll go to Southampton and do a reportage about it.”

 

“Oh,” Freddie nodded. “Okay, uhm, shouldn’t we wait, till we know when the prime minister will go?”

 

“Till we hear that the prime minister is going to Southampton, it will be already too late. You leave tomorrow morning, Mister Wengrow you’ll assist Mister Lyon,” Randall pointed out. “And you stay there, for a week at least.”

 

“A week?” Freddie blurted.

 

At the same time, Hector leaned back with wide open eyes in his chair, “What is with the show?”

 

“Glad you ask, Mister Madden,” Randall caught a glance at Bel, who hadn’t processed the consequences of it all yet. "You’ll do it. Alone. If there is a chance, we do a live sequence with Mister Lyon.”

 

“Do you think a week is necessary?” Bel asked more absently and not with any hint of caring, but somehow her trained senses worked on their own. As she was sensing Freddie's and Hector's concerns, it was her job to bring them to the surface.

 

“At least, yes,” Randall answered her, making evident in his tone he wouldn't argue about it with anyone in the room. "Do some interviews Mister Lyon, get to the core. Capture the emotions. You are good at it, and when the prime minister finally arrives, you know what questions have to be asked."

  
  
  


Randall sent everyone back to work after that. Freddie and Isaac vanished to get all the stuff they needed. A camera and the necessary equipment.

Lix threw Randall a look, making known she had figured out his plan already. She didn’t seem mad, almost appreciating, but Randall couldn’t be sure because he did as if he was ignoring it.

 

“Miss Rowley?” he instead turned to Bel, who sat aside the desk.

 

Aside she had been there, he never really had the impression she was there, not even when she had thrown in her ask. She was away. Her body was present, but the rest longed for going back to her office and to hid again.

 

“Yes?” she raised her head.

 

“You agree?” he elaborated.

 

She glanced at him, as if she was back in school, and had missed the question of her teacher, “With what?”

 

“That I send Mister Lyon and Mister Wengrow to Southampton,” he explained and tried not to sound too unnerved. Sure she wouldn’t recognize it all. “For a week.”

 

Deep inside Bel knew she should have an opinion on this all, but she was so lulled in by her grief and the fact that she hadn’t slept much the last few days, that she so not cared.

Randall could have ordered them all toward a cliff, telling them to jump down. She was certain; she wouldn’t have questioned it. At least, not until the moment, she would have to jump herself.

She sighed, “I am sorry. I know I should say something about it, but right now… it’s a bit difficult.”

 

Seeing Bel like this made him feel sorry for her, because he knew that she had waited for Freddie and had wasted time on him. Whatever had happened, he might hear about sooner or later, must have been a hard blow for her, “I tell you what we do. I see you in an hour.”

 

Bel glanced at the watch on her wrist, “Then what?”

 

“I’ll drive you home,” he smiled gently at her, hoping this gesture would help her to catch some necessary sleep. “Don’t argue, please. This office will not fall, just because you leave an hour earlier.”

She answered his smile with one of hers, “If you say so.”

 

In the evening, he drove her home in silence, and she slowly recapitulated what he had done today in the office. That he had ordered Freddie away for a whole week. Aside the thought hurt a bit; it had also set off a feeling of relieve.

Of knowing, she didn’t need to face him the next day, and also not the next few days. So, no hiding and her mind could maybe come to some rest again.

While Randall drove, Bel wondered if he knew anything, but how could he? Had he noticed her behaviour? She couldn’t be sure about it. Also,

 

“ _ I am a good observer — can't help it.” _

 

He didn’t know about Camille’s pregnancy; there she was sure. The only one who knew by now was Lix, and she wouldn’t spill the beans, not even to Randall.

And Freddie hadn’t told anyone else but her.

 

Nevertheless, Bel was sure, Randall wanted to help her in one of his riddlesome ways, and she appreciated it, but she was to tired to talk with him about it.

 

Another day, another drive — hopefully.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys still enjoy this fic, and I plan soon an update!


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is away, and Bel starts to feel better. And Randall? Seems to feel better around Bel too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all your comments! I figured this fic will have at least 20 chapters, so stay tuned!

Surprisingly, that night, Bel was able to fall asleep. She didn’t sleep through and woke up a few times, but she didn’t lay hands on the alcohol, and when the morning came, she felt a bit better. 

Knowing Freddie wouldn’t be in the office the next day, seemed to have indeed a soothing effect on her. 

The next couple of days she slowly found back to old strength. Not that it was easy, the facts about Freddie and Camille’s pregnancy still tortured her, but more because she became aware every day more, that she had made a fool out of herself. 

It had been stupid to have hopes, without going to Freddie and confront him about what had happened. That it had been her mistake, she saw that now.

As Bel had the feeling she had worked a bit too long for a too long time, she mostly left with the others, and she could swear, that Randall’s eyes always lit up a bit, when she told him that she was leaving for the day. As if he was pleased to see that his doing to sent Freddie away was helping her in some way. By now, she guessed, he had done it intentionally.

Nevertheless, at one evening, she had to stay till six, and phone with one of the correspondences in the middle east, making sure they would get further film material while Lix hung on another phone talking with people in the embassy down there. 

When everything was done, she fell back into her chair, exhausted but happy that everything was going well.

“That was a hell of a phone call!” she groaned and Lix, who had come in a few minutes before, smirked at her.

“We get what we want; you were very convincing!” for a moment she watched Bel breath in and out, having her eyes closed. “It’s good having you back.”

“Back?”

Lix dragged at her cigarette, smiling meaningful, “You know what I mean. I don't want to say his name.”

Bel rolled her eyes, but smiled, “Better don’t. I don't want to think about it.”

“Understandable,” Lix nodded. “I just wanted to say, good work.”

“I wanted to say the same,” Randall appeared in the doorframe, examining the two women. “When I’ve heard correctly, we get interviews and new film material?”

“Yes,” Bel lunged forward toward her desk, grabbing for the piece of papers, she had taken notes on. “Exclusively!” she held up the paper, and waggled it in the air, then she held it toward Lix, asking her to give it over to Randall.

Lix grabbed the paper from her hand and turned to Randall, who was still standing by the door. One last time she turned toward Bel again, “I leave for tonight. I hope you leave soon too,” she suggested, “And keep up the good work.”

Bel nodded, knowing what she meant by it, “I will. See you tomorrow, good night.”

Turning toward Randall, Lix stepped up to him, and held out the note, “It’s always good, when a plan works out, isn’t it?” Only Lix could give such smile, a smile he seemed to know since forever.

“Yes,” he took the paper from her with verve, “Good night, Miss Storm.”

Bel had curiously watched the interaction between them, “What was that about?”

Randall first read the notes, and then looked at her, trying to look as innocent as possible, that it made Bel almost snicker, “Nothing.” 

What made Bel tilt her head, but she did not want to press him for an honest answer.

“I am leaving in a few minutes, would you like me to wait for you?” Randall then asked, changing the topic, and found himself hoping for a yes.

“That would be nice of you,” Bel nodded. “Five minutes?”

“Good,” he smiled a bit more as usual, and then placed the notes on the table in her office, his fingers pushing the piece of paper a bit around, till it lined up with the edge of another magazine that laid there. “Good. Work. Good work.”

Bel watched Randall turn around and leave, and only realized she was smiling wide when she was about to dress and pack her stuff while thinking, that her Head of News sometimes was quite adorable.

Where was this coming from? She stopped in the middle of putting on her coat, and then shook her head, “You can’t think that!”

“Think what?”

Bel jumped, finding Randall standing at her door, dressed and ready to leave, “Uhm, nothing. Let’s go,” she switched the light off and went with him to the lift.

When they reached his car, he, as always, opened the door for her and waited, till she had settled into the seat, before carefully closing the door. 

Bel glanced around the familiar surroundings, thinking she was very fond of his car and the moments they had by now in it. And when Randall sat aside her and started the ignition, she thought, that she liked having him around her. 

A few months ago, he was nothing but a colleague to her, her Head of News, and now they had settled into another state of relationship. A friendship, still a bit shaky, because they were both not used to have such thing with a person so different from themselves. 

They both had not many friends, as they both were married to their job and working late didn’t went well with having a lot of friends. 

Bel was a rare subject in her circle of friends. Most of her friends had kids already or were working as a secretary or similar, and not like her working in a leading position. 

And Randall, he was no one for having many friends, never had been, spending his times either in the office or at home. Yes, he met up with some people, but the most connections he had in the media to share the latest news. It was more work as fun in the end.

When they reached her apartment complex Bel spoke up, “Can I ask a question?” turning toward him, she added quickly, “And no, it will not be about relationships.”

Glancing at her, he swallowed, “Yes?”

“What was it you wanted to say, last week, when you drove me?” it had bothered her not to know what it was, and since her head and heart worked better with Freddie’s absences, she had found herself thinking about Randall standing by his car, with an unfinished sentence, often. 

She saw Randall frown at her question, and she feared he couldn’t remember, “When I asked you for advice because of Mister Lyon? After you told me, you are a good observer… you stopped, but there was something else you wanted to say, it was there. It’s still there for me. Hanging in the air.”

Randall recapitulated the situation a few days ago. Not that he had forgotten about it, but he had put it already to the things that never would be talked about again. So he was surprised, even more that Bel was talking about it.

“You thought about this for the last few days?” he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Randall couldn’t believe someone remembered something like that from him. And of all the people who might, he would never have bet on Bel.

Bel glanced down at her hands. He was right with his surprise, with his questioning look. Why in all the world was she still pondering about it, ”Silly, isn’t it?”

“No,” he quickly reassured. “I simply haven’t thought you would like to hear it, give something about it. In the end, it’s only me,” Randall swallowed looking at the parked car in front of them.

Bel frowned and turned to him, “What’s that supposed to mean? Only you? It sounds like you think I would regard you as some unimportant person.”

He gave her a confused smile, “Ain’t I for you?”

She didn’t know how long she needed to answer. His response overwhelmed her. Did he honestly think, she saw him like this? “No, you are not.”

For a moment Randall malfunctioned, unable to answer as quickly as he had wanted, only his lips moving in a failed attempt of uttering an opinion, “What I meant was, you have friends and closer colleagues, and unquestionably you value their opinion much higher as you would mine. It is true, I wanted to say something, and then I haven’t because I am not entitled to do so. You are my producer, and I am your Head of News, and our relationship is work related and fairly far from what I would consider a friendship.”

It was sometimes hard to read in Randall, Bel thought, seeing him with his thick glasses and the stern expression. He was no one for showing much emotion, but she had come to the conclusion, that there was something under this shield, the suit and the repressed behaviour patterns. Something brisk, a fire, a certain energy, that had been locked away long ago, for a reason she hadn’t detected yet.

Instead, his fingers seemed to talk, while he kept quiet and stern, fiddling with the edge of the steering wheel.

A few weeks ago, she would have taken his comment to critical, of him being forbidding, not wanting a friendship with her, and not seeing anything else in her. Bel was sure; she would have said something like “Oh, I see,” and had left the car, without looking back. 

Now, she smiled gently at him, knowing he only had said it to avoid disappointment.

Randall Brown was a careful man, a timid creature when it was not about his job, fearing rejection, and he also was polite and knew exactly what boundary he could overstep or not. Doing as if they were friends — only because they shared those drives together — was nothing he would arrogate. 

 

“What you said is quite right, Mister Brown,” Bel began still considering how to express what she wanted to say. “We work mainly together, and from time to time you drive me home in your car. There is nothing that suggests we are close beyond this point, and yet we sit here and talk about certain things, I wouldn’t discuss with, as example Isaac, who is a loyal chap but…,” she glanced away for a moment, down to his hands that were still on the steering wheel. “What I want to say is, would it be so unimaginable to … to become friends, Mister Brown? I’d dare say; we already began such process.”

Randall’s fingers suddenly let go of the leather around the steering wheel, shuffling more in his seat, so he could turn more toward Bel. He was not aware how abrupt he was and aside he was puzzled by her words, he had trained himself so well over the years, that he must have looked harsh. 

He saw a flicker of doubt in Bel’s face, and knew she was about to add something, to soften her statement, as she was worried he didn’t like what she just had said.

Shaking his head slightly, he reached out with one of his hands, without touching her, “Indeed.”

Bel’s facial expression dwelled between laughing and confused, “Indeed?”

“We do talk about topics I usually wouldn’t discuss with everyone, I’d say, I…,” he stopped himself. Unsure. Embarrassed. Afraid.

Randall Brown was no one for a big talk, mostly because he was a loner and his circle of friends was very, very small. He liked them all at work but had never considered one as a friend he could call at night when he was worried. Not that he had ever done that, calling someone, late at night, because there never had been one. Lix, maybe, but that was another story.

Bel knew at this moment, knew about Randall, who was not blessed with many friends. Good colleagues, people who would speak highly of him, yes, but not close friends he would trust with his life. 

People had heard of him, he was a good journalist, with a long career. Newspeople had heard about Randall Brown. She wondered how he had been as a young man and was tempted to ask him, but it was not the time. To ask such question, not making him uncomfortable with it, would take another few weeks. Maybe she better should ask Lix on day, maybe not. She didn't want to betray him.

Sparing him the embarrassment, she placed her hand on his jacket sleeve, “Indeed,” and smiled.

He smiled back, almost unaware that he did, nodding. Then he shook himself out of his staring, glancing at his watch, “It’s late, I am sorry, I not wanted to detain you.”

“Oh, no,” Bel reached for her purse, “you most certainly haven’t. And we both know it has been me who detained you, so...,” she gathered all her courage, and held out her hand to him, “Bel.”

Randall looked confused at her hand, then at her, almost taking too long to react, feeling that Bel started to feel awkward, and then the penny dropped, and he nodded with a shy smile, “Randall.”

His handshake was gentle but certain, and his hand was warm, and she liked the feeling. He had soft hands. A journalist not a mechanic.

“Then good night, Randall, have a nice weekend,” Bel reached for the handle and hopped out of the car, hearing him say her name, with a soft Scottish brogue. He couldn’t see her smile brightly when she opened the door of her apartment house. And she couldn’t see his shoulders relax, when he sighed, over what had happened. 

 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New update soon!


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie will soon come back and this knowledge is scaring Bel for reasons. Randall knows he has to help her. But to do so, he has to reveal things of his past, he had hoped to forget about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made good progress, so have another new chapter!

 

 

The time in which Freddie was away, came eventually to an end, and Bel got nervous over it. On the last day she started to feel uneasy knowing the reason very well, that had been away for a week.

She had used the time to think about her life.  About the past, the mistakes she had made and what she wanted to do with her life, and foremost with her heart, in the future. She had to deal with Freddie somehow, that she knew too. Sooner or later they had to talk to each other about what had happened to them in the past, about the kiss, but it would certainly not be the first thing she would do the next day.

 

Having all those ideas and plans, she feared something would go wrong, that she had forgotten about anything, like that life usually never was going by plan or feared that she hadn’t found enough strength to face Freddie the next day and that she would break apart the moment she would see him. Those worries were the hardest. She was strong and had faith in herself, but the heart and mind were a delicate place, and the smallest things could topple them over. It made her nervous. In the conference they had after lunch, she had fiddled with a pen so much time till it dropped, and she had felt ridiculous for it, having the impression, everyone was watching her. Lix did. Hector and Randall, too and sometimes Bel wanted to stand up and tell them all — even the people who didn’t know — to stop looking at her, to stop making her feel like she was a sixteen-year-old child with a hopeless crush.

She was strong and had faith in herself, but the heart and mind were a delicate place, and the smallest things could topple them over. It made her nervous. In the conference they had after lunch, she had fiddled with a pen so much time till it dropped, and she had felt ridiculous for it, having the impression, everyone was watching her. Lix did. Hector and Randall, too and sometimes Bel wanted to stand up and tell them all — even the people who didn’t know — to stop looking at her, to stop making her feel like she was a sixteen-year-old child with a hopeless crush.

 

While Randall listened to the reports of everyone, he watched Bel in the corner of his eye. Watched the pen drop down to the floor. Her uneasiness became visible to him, through the pen, and the way she had nibbled at her fingertips all day while reading over newspapers or notes on the blackboard. She was about to slide back into an old mood.

This made him nervous, not as nervous as Bel was, but nervous enough to worry. Having Freddie not around had changed Bel, had helped her and aside he knew it wouldn’t heal the wounds, he had the impression she was on a good way — when she could overcome her fear of facing the trigger again.

 

When the day was slowly coming to an end, he asked her to come to his office, telling her he wanted to talk to her about the next show, and she followed him immediately, grateful for the distraction.

 

He considered her a moment, unsure how to approach the topic he had thought about all day. “Bel,” he began, still not very used to the fact that they now used their first names when in private, “have you ever thought about, taking a holiday?”

 

Bel rose both her eyebrows. The topic came unexpected, but she quickly grasped why he mentioned it, “I thought you wanted to talk to me about the show?”

 

“Yes,” he tugged at his tie, “I obviously lied. I think, the show is already in safe hands.”

 

“Mister… Randall,” she smirked over her faux pas while being unnerved at the same time. As response she saw him lower his head a bit, “Has Lix spoken to you?”

 

“Miss Storm has the habit of speaking to me from time to time, daily I dare say, so,” he licked his lips, and Bel exhaled loudly. Whatever Randall was playing, at the moment she felt he was testing her patience.

 

The tense situation unnerved her. She unnerved herself, and that she projected onto Randall and the others, and so it was a vicious circle of being on the edge all time long.

 

“You know how I mean it,” she crossed her arms in front of her. “The odd thing is, that Miss Storm recommended a holiday too, and I can’t get over the idea, that she might have told you to urge me to do one.”

 

Randall had to admit, that Bel was too clever for him, “There is no reason to lie to you twice, so, yes, I’ve talked with Miss Storm last week, but I want to point out I don’t know anything about the matter that led to … to the whole other matter.”

 

“Wow, you’re not good at such conversations,” Bel sat down on his sofa, spluttering with her lips, thinking. “Listen, yes, I know a holiday might be a good idea, but I don’t believe this is the time, and I am not one for running away. Yes, Freddie comes back tomorrow, and you apparently noticed I am a bit sidetracked because of it, but I am sure I can handle it.”

 

Making the mistake of asking her, “Can you?” Randall regretted to invite her into his office. The glare that hit him was one of fire and ice.

 

In fact Bel got angry, very, all the frustration got now leaked with Randall’s innocent question, and she jumped up from the sofa again, “I know you want to help. Everybody seems to want. Lix and even Hector, who looks at me like lost puppy, or as if he wants to hug me all the time, to cheer me up again,” she rambled. “You all expect me to be fine after just a week, as if this… this with Freddie was only something brief for me. Something superficial. It’s not, it never was! I love him, loved him, he is my friend, and he can marry whoever he wants, I think he had feelings for me too, and is just better with hiding or forgetting about them. God knows!”

 

“Bel-”

 

“-No, Randall, I am sorry you have to listen to it now, but someone has,” she snapped. “All I hear from you and Lix and Hector is to forget the boy. Do you all believe, I sit at home, not trying to do exactly this? First of all, how? How you do it?” her voice cracked. “You have to know, don’t you?” Randall averted his eyes, making a fist around his right thumb, without having any intention of answering her yet. “I wish you all would stop seeing me as a little girl having a hopeless crush on my teacher or something.”

 

Randall had listened intently to Bel’s words. The bottled up feelings had burst out, his stupid question the trigger. Dwelling on the spot, he tried to come up with what to do, and then grabbed a stool and placed it a meter away from the sofa. 

“Would you mind sitting down again?” he asked, turning to her and she nodded, taking place on the couch. While he sat down on the stool, facing her, “You are aware, I still haven’t told you, what I wanted to say to you, the night I told you about my observing skills?”

 

Bel frowned at him. Somewhere at the end of this talk, she was sure this and her questions were connected, aside she couldn’t imagine in what way. Riddlesome Randall ways, she assumed.

“You haven’t, that’s true,” she rubbed her cold hands. “You’re going to tell me now?”

 

“If you let me,” he smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “First of all, about your question, I never treated you like that, like this girl, you spoke of. I think you treat yourself like that. Because you are desperate to tell yourself, that those feelings mean nothing. It would make it all easier, wouldn’t it? The problem is, and you have already understood, that those feelings are not superficial, they mean something to you. They have changed you, they crafted your heart, haven’t they?”

 

“I don’t think-”

 

“-Bel,” Randall warned her. “As you pointed out, Miss Storm and I were involved,” he saw her eyes that grew bigger of the mentioning of it.

 

“I do, but not because I have listened to this one conversation.”

“You are smart, Bel, and you spent time with Lix. I can assume, you have known something before that night,” for a moment his eyes drifted off from her, looking into thin air, lost in thought, and his fingers rubbed the little hollow between his upper lip and his nose. With a sharp inhaling, he came back to her. “We met in the Spanish Civil War in 1937. We had an affair,” Randall spoke clear but the way his fingers moved in the air, Bel knew his words didn’t come lightly.

 

“Randall, you don’t have to-”

 

“-No, I don’t have to, but I want, and if you want to know what I wanted to tell you that night, I have to tell you the whole story,” he gave her a look that told her to bare with him. “We had an affair, … well, that was what Lix always said about it, but spoken for me, I was very much in love back then,” and then he stopped and didn’t speak on, just stared at Bel’s feet for solid twenty seconds.

 

Bel didn’t know what to do. She guessed with starting this conversation Randall had opened a pandora's box inside of him and was now struggling the outcome, aside he looked calm as ever on the outside. “Randall?” by now Bel felt guilty for having unleashed her anger on him and had returned to her quiet self.

 

His eyes found hers again, “You go home every night, with a heavy heart. Full of love and sorrow at the same time. Unable to contain yourself, and unable to convince you to go on and live a normal life. Unable to say no to the alcohol and unable to stand up in the morning. Because you are so in love, and you don’t understand why the other isn’t. You have so much love inside you, for both of you, and the hard part is that the other person either seems not to want it or is just better with not getting hurt as easily as you. The amount of love, you can’t share, is what brings you down. Isn’t that so?”

 

Bel gasped, staring at Randall, who took off his glasses and slowly began to clean them with the handkerchief from his breast pocket. All the time he didn’t look at her, only kept polishing the glass, while Bel questioned if he was talking about himself, or about her or about in general. Either way, this was not an experience one read in a book about.

 

To crown it all, he was right. Exactly as he had described it, it was. The amount of love she had and Freddie was not willing to share it with her. No, instead he had decided to marry another woman and now was about to become a father — Randall didn’t know about that yet. It had broken her heart, was still breaking it, or, at least, hindered her to put the mess back together.

 

“We had a child together,” Randall had finished his cleaning orgy without her noticing, and went on as if they were talking about the weather. She was close to tears.

 

Now all the pieces she had collected over the last year about him and Lix fell into place. “Had?”

 

“Yes,” Randall stood and returned to his desk, reaching for a file there. Slowly coming back to Bel he held out a picture, “Sofia. She died, in an air raid —  in 1941.”

 

Slowly Bel took the photo from him. On it, she could see a couple with a young child. The couple wasn’t Randall nor Lix as expected, what confused her and Randall saw it, “Lix gave her up for adoption.”

 

“Adoption?”

 

“It’s uhm, complicated, but yes,” Randall fumbled with his hands, “She got pregnant, and I … I left her. We both couldn’t… Workaholics, you know. Plus, I was young and stupid. That’s another a story for another time,” he smiled down at the ground, like someone trying to chase away the sorrow and the bad conscious with the only thing left — a very sad smile. “We recently found out that she died when she had been two years old.”

 

“You didn’t know?” Bel, unconsciously, leaned a bit forward, her hand covering her mouth as if in shock. Seeing Randall like this, and now knowing this important part of his past, made her aware why he sometimes was like he was.

It was always horrible when a child died, but not knowing, how must that have felt, when the news hit him and Lix. Had he looked for her? There was a chance, why else did he only now find out about her death.

 

“We didn’t. I didn’t know who Lix gave her too, and I didn’t care for a long time, but that is not the story I wanted to tell you,” he locked eyes with her for a moment, seeing Bel was overwhelmed by what he had told her. It was his biggest secret, and that she knew, and he had given it to her in order to help her, and he wasn’t even finished. “The advice I didn’t dare say was, that it never ends… to hurt.

“I know not much about relationships, because, after Alexis Storm, I never fell in love again. There were reasons, we couldn’t be together, and there are reasons why we never relinked, and aside I say; I can be around her, and I am over the fact that I had times I couldn’t think straight because of her, I have to admit --  that it sometimes still hurts. After thirty years, it still hurts, and that was I wanted to say to you. It never stops. No matter how much you recover. Mister Lyon has left a mark in your heart; you better get used to the fact, that the scar will never vanish.”

 

He let out a relieved sigh, never leaving Bel with his eyes, and she saw pure kindness in them. Aside the sadness, and the pity he had for her. He had done the journey already, the one she still had to make.

It seemed he was glad that she let him tell his story. A story he wouldn’t tell everyone, he probably never had told it to anyone before. She knew Lix, and the woman was one for running away. They never had talked about all this, like Bel never had talked with Freddie.

 

Randall wasn’t mainly telling her that it would keep hurting, that she would have figured out sooner or later. No, her friend was telling her not to make the same mistake as he had done. Letting things rest for 30 years and then to watch how everything collapses. She had in hand how deep the scar would be.

 

Bel glanced at his hands; that laid in his lap, and without thinking, he reached forward and grabbed one, “Thank you.”

 

Inaudible he gasped at the touch, not having reckoned with her in such way. Peering at his hand in hers, he found his fingers slowly clasp around her smaller hand.

Then, panic befall him, and he jolted up to his feet, and Bel did the same, because he hadn’t let go of her hand, and for a few seconds they stared at each other like two startled deer.

 

“Uhm,” Randall took his hand away, quickly composing himself again by taking the chair to take it back to its original spot. “Think about taking a vacation in April; there is the parliamentary recess so that a week would be no problem.”

 

Bel saw him grasp the left hand with the right hand, the one she had touched, rubbing it intensely. First, she was afraid, she had overstepped her boundaries. They rarely touched and when not like this. It was him, touching her arm, or her touching his elbow, nothing more, and even that sometimes seemed too much for him.

Randall Brown barely touched people, when he could, he avoided handshakes. She had observed him here and there, and it got stuck, because the others always held out their hands, waiting for him to accept, and it made the situation usually very awkward when he did as if he didn't see the given hand. Sometimes Bel jumped in, shaking hands with the other, quickly changing the topic.

 

Already about to leave, she stopped by the door, having his words in mind, “I am sorry, I didn’t want to-”

 

“-You haven’t. Don’t worry,” and when she turned around again, something in him couldn’t let her go by now. “Promise me; you won’t let him hurt you. Mister Lyon I mean.”

 

Bel slowly turned around letting his words sink in. And when she faced him, she saw he was so genuine worried about her that she wanted to walk over and hug him for an hour. Lix, Hector, and even Freddie had been worried, but different.

With him, she indeed had erred. In his worry was something more. He had sent Freddie away for her, not for the show or the story — for her. And he hadn’t bragged about it. That was more, as anyone ever had done for her.

 

Not that she owed it to him, but Bel thought he deserved to know a little more about the matter, “He kissed me, Mister Lyon, short before he got beaten up. He had told me, we should do something about him and me, and then he kissed me. Only to return to his wife later. He hurt me already, but I promise, I let him not do it again,” she gave him a warm smile before she turned to finally leave the room.

 

Randall stayed behind, not leaving his office again till it was time to go home. As usual, he walked to Bel’s office, for asking her if she wanted him to drive her home, but he only found an empty office.

Seeing that the yellow lamp on her desk was still burning, he stepped in and turned it off. He wasn’t disappointed that she was gone already, rather relieved because he hoped she had something to do that night. A meeting with friends, or a good book or a movie. Or only finding some rest before she had to face the man, that had turned her heart into a battlefield. Randall had enough experience with battlefields to know the comparison was fitting.

 

Shoving some pens, that laid around, into order, he smirked, and then left home.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update as soon as possible, maybe at the weekend. I try to post faster now!


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the little things have the biggest impact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, there is a part in this fic I wanted to post way earlier in the story, but I forgot about it, and so I rewrote a bit to make it fit here, because I found it important to be in it (it's the Freddie part at the end!). But there is a chance it looks a bit amiss here. Not sure. 
> 
> Also, this and the next chapter will be all little scenes and I jump always a few days or a week, to show the progress and the time that goes actually by while Bel and Randall get closer, because one wouldn't get over a person one day and fall for another the next. It all needs time and I think that is how a starting relationship with Randall would go. Slooooow ;).
> 
> Such thing is not a straight line. It's a back and forth, like a pendulum. Sometimes one is easy around each other and then it feels like the first time ever. In case you guys wonder why Randall is one day like this with Bel and then the next like this. Or she with him. (God, I probably had the wrong relationships in my life :D)

 

The talk with Randall kept having an effect on Bel, and after she had left him, she sat for a longer while in her office with a closed door and mused over it.

When she heard some people leave, she realized it was time to go home. On time once again, and so she grabbed her coat and her purse, that hung aside the door and slipped it on.

Turning around, she let her eyes travel around the room. Over the blackboard with the many pictures and article from recent events they had an eye on, toward her desk. The typewriter in the middle, a stack of papers aside it. The newspaper from the morning cramped between the typewriter and a tray.

Randall wouldn’t like that, Bel chuckled, and walked over to her desk, patting the yellow lamp. A present from Freddie, from a few years ago. Yellow, it was her colour.

Her eyes found the wall opposite from her. Three rooms over, there was Randall’s office. Sure he was still there.  She hoped he wouldn’t be all too disappointed or even angry when he would see she had left without saying good night.

No, not Randall. Randall was different.

She smirked again and switched the lamp on, then returned to the door, turned the main light off and left for the lift. It only took a few seconds, then the doors opened, and Bel turned once more, looking down the corridor to the point where Randall’s office door was.

One day, she had to thank him for his words, his friendship and for letting down his guards so she could recover. She had to, and she would. Bel didn’t know how, but one day she would find the right words, and the right gift, there she was sure.

 

 #

The next day, with Freddie’s return, the situation shifted again, but only a little. Bel wasn’t healed of course. But the week with him away, Randall’s encouraging words, and playing the punching ball for her shattered nerves, had helped to make her realize a few things, and to gather courage and will, to face the man without breaking apart over it.

Instead of waiting that Freddie would come to her the next day, she approached him openly with a quick hug, welcoming him back. Freddie was delighted not only to be back, but also to see Bel was there and well.

“Oh, I missed you!” Freddie cheered. “I missed you all! Southampton was horrible! I even missed Hector! Can you imagine?”

In the conference he and Isaac told about their week and everyone had fun listening to their stories and Randall could see that Bel’s laughs about them weren’t fake, but honest and so it seemed to him, she felt better.

He kept an eye on her nevertheless. That day and the next few, trying to be there without being there too much. The revelation of his personal experience and dilemma had cost him not only courage but also energy. Also, seeing Bel smile and walk around without looking like a hunted animal, had been worth it.

A few days after Freddies return the same announced the pregnancy of his wife, and the whole newsroom was blown away by the good news. They all congratulated Freddie, and Sally and some others already proposed baby names.

Randall was sitting aside Lix that day and watched Bel from the distance when he heard the news. Now everything was explained, and he was overwhelmed by the fact, that Bel had done so well. Knowing the whole story now, Randall knew, others would have broken over it, but not Bel. Her outbreak was now understandable to him.

After the first shock had left him again, he turned aware of it all to Lix — the secret she had kept from him. She only shrugged, making a gesture, that he surely understood why.

Yes, Randall knew a lot what was going on in his newsroom, but as it seemed not everything.

After that he congratulated Mister Lyon and wished him and his wife the very best, even suggesting The Hour would look very good as a godfather. Freddie laughed and thanked him, telling him he was excited and happy to become a father.

“I am sure you will do good,” Bel joined the two man, rubbing Freddies upper arm. “How far is she by now?”

“End of second months, you can’t see much yet, but Camille is already in ice cream mood,” he chuckled.

“You get better used to it,” Randall smirked. “It will not go away for a very long time.”

“And you know that why, Mister Brown,” Lix suddenly appeared, giving him a look that was her usual glare underlined with something else.

It made Randall avert his eyes for a moment, getting grim before he smiled again. First at Freddie, then at Lix, “I’ve heard that somewhere. When you excuse me then, I have a phone call to make,” he turned, caught Bel’s soft look, and then left the room.

Bel couldn’t but throw Lix an unnerved look, uncaring that Lix probably didn’t know that Bel knew about Sofia. Gladly Lix didn’t get onto it, and turned back to Freddie to tease him about the news, so Bel used the moment to excuse herself and to follow Randall to his office.

“Randall!” she stopped him by his door. “You okay?”

First, he didn’t know why she would ask when he became aware, that she had heard not only the dialogue he had with Lix but also found it a reason to be worried about him. He smiled at her, “I am. She does that sometimes.”

“It was not nice,” Bel couldn’t understand why he let her do it.

“She has her reasons, Bel,” Randall shrugged and entered his office with the following Bel. “That’s what you get when you leave the woman you love while pregnant, and never talk to her about it for over 20 years. But I have seen, you are following my advice, or at least you try. I should ask if you are okay?”

“I am,” Bel smirked. “It’s not easy, but I have to move on, and I need to say, it’s your fault too.”

“Mine?” he touched his chest with one hand.

“I know what you did, and what you still do,” Bel watched him amused shuffle on the spot. “It means a lot; I hope you know.”

Randall had the impression to blush violently, and it probably was so, “I know now. Anyway, good you are here,” he pointed at his sofa, asking her to sit down, “Can we talk about the topics for tomorrow quickly?”

Bel settled down, “Of course.” 

He joined her with a file that inherited a lot of papers, showing her some pictures of Freddie’s and Isaac’s adventures in Southampton and suggested they should show them at the end of the show the next day, as a reminder, that there were still protests going on.

“We also have the part about Sheik Al Nuaimi in connection with the middle east,” Randall pointed at a scribbled piece of paper, where he had made some notes, mainly names, and dates. “I think we should put that to the front, what do you say?”

“You mean as a pickup?” she frowned, thinking about the idea. “Yes, I think that is good. Let me quickly write that down.” She took a piece of paper from him, and wrote down the new order, so she could later transfer it to the blackboard without making a mistake.

Randall watched her scribbling it down, when she suddenly leaned over, “Oh God, may I, those names are always a bit complicated,” herself unaware, that she placed her own hand over his, to shove it gently aside so she could copy the name without an error, Randall felt it twice as much.

He froze under the touch, watching her hand kept on his while copying the name letter by letter, all thoughtful how Bel was. He didn’t dare to move, and Bel was too busy to notice what was going on.

When she was finished, she let go of his hand and placed her hand back onto her own paper, writing something else under it, “Great!” She wasn’t aware that Randall had never left her with his eyes, and when she looked at him, he was looking down at his hand, stretching it slowly. “That’s it? I’ll tell Hector the new order.”

“Uhm, yes,” he nodded quickly, watching her stand up. “Make sure Mister Lyon gives him some background information about the Sheik. We both know Mister Madden lacks in such areas.”

“I will,” Bel smiled and saw him stretch his hand again while he was still looking at her. She gave it a frown while turning around and closing the door behind her. Reading the topic list from her notes once again, she stopped by the name of the sheik, seeing herself reaching for Randall’s hand, so he wouldn’t cover the name with it. She took a deep breath when the realization hit her.

 #

A few more days passed, and they all settled back into normality. The show aired. The team worked well together, and Bel felt better around Freddie day by day.

The days got busy again, and Bel and Randall shared his car again more often. After they hadn’t done it for a week, it seemed they had both missed it, and they settled quickly back into pleasant moments, and little talks about work, movies or a bit of philosophy.

Bel had dismissed the moment in his office when she had touched his hand as something that happened between friends and forgot about it.

Everything seemed back to normal, till Bel walked into the newsroom where Freddie, Isaac, Hector and some others had their desks.

“How far are you with your research on the Richardson article?” Bel came into the office, reading some papers, asking Freddie, who sat at his desk, typing and smoking. “You know I need something tomorrow, or Mister Brown will not allow you to go on air with it.”

“Don’t you worry,” Freddie mumbled through his lips and puffing his cigarette at the same time. “I am on it. Five o’clock it’s on your desk. Word of honour.”

Bel lowered her papers, and shoved her glasses into her hair, huffing over him, “I don’t want your word of honour — just do it! And can’t it be a bit earlier? At least once this week I would like to leave this building before seven!”

Freddie stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, leaning back into his chair, “I’ll try. Aside I am sure Mister Brown can give you a lift once again.”

Bel, who had turned to Hector’s desk to place his some questions for an interview on it, turned back toward her friend with an expression that was somewhere between surprise and a warning toward Freddie, “I beg you pardon?”

One finger rubbed his nose quickly, before he turned back to his article, erasing a typo with some whiteout, “I saw you both, the other night. I forgot something and came back, just to spot you get into his car.”

She knew Freddie too good, and already way too long, as to not know that he was up to something, “Freddie, do me a favour, and just spill what you want to say. I am tired already, and it is not yet noon, I have a pile of articles to type and another collection of people I have to call. If you want to say something to me, you can just damn well do it — without your little games.”

That impressed Freddie, and reminded him, why he liked Bel so much in the first place. She was a bulldog, brisk and fearless. “I don’t play any games, Bel. I saw you drive away with him; that’s all. So I guessed he gave you a lift, he lives in the same direction as you do, doesn’t he?”

“Yet,” she crossed her arms in front of her, “it sounds as if you would suggest something.”

“No, I don’t,” Freddie held up his hands in defence. “Also… I can’t speak for others. I mean, I know Mister Brown, old bachelor, not up to anything, but …”

“Freddie!”

He smirked. It was all too easy to tease Bel, “People can see you, no one knows you don't drive home with him or he with you. You both work late; people quickly assume things,” he blew over the spot he had filled up with whiteout and then went on typing.

Freddie was not wrong about it, and still Bel was angry at him. There was some tone in his words, and she couldn’t believe he meant it only to protect her. She knew jealousy when she saw it, aside knowing he had so no reason for it. He was the one married and the expectant father, and she wasn’t dating anyone, so she did nothing wrong.

In case it was jealousy, she was aware Freddie’s was not the biggest, but it was something there. When she had been with Hector, he was more the sulking type and now for some reason, he was more amused about it.

The _‘I am amused over your choices but still jealous’_ type, because Freddie had a car too, he could drive her, but he never worked that late, and so what was the point of this discussion? His reason was maybe another one. Maybe he was worried what the others would say.

Bel decided, whatever Freddie saw, it was ridiculous in the first place as Randall and her just shared some nice talks while he drove her home for exact fifteen minutes. He was a good colleague. Taking the bus would take ten more minutes and at this time of the year it was cold and mostly raining. Nothing more there was.

“Freddie?” she put a particular tone into his name, underlined with a glare.

“Yes?” he raised his head, but not his eyes.

“Three o’clock, not one minute later, or you can sunset your story!” with that she left him alone, and went back to her office. Oh, she was definitely back on old terms with him.

Freddie was her friend, ever would be, and she would always love him, but she had decided it made no sense to wait, that she had to move on, and so she moved on. In baby steps, but still. 

She even had two nice dates with the brother of one of her friends. The guy was cute but slightly not what she wanted, but she hadn’t told him yet.

When she thought long enough about it, she found dating unnerving these days. Working hard and long, left not much energy, but on the other side so many people told her she should live a little more.

Her friends, and Lix, who always encouraged her to make her mistakes, before she would be too old, and no one would be interested in her anymore. The thing was that Lix was not exactly what one could call a showpiece for proper relationships. More for having affairs here and there, and of that Bel had had enough in the past.

She didn't want to fool around any longer, fearing she would end like her mother one day. Having no place to stay and only five pounds in her savings, waiting for her admirer to call.

What of course didn’t mean she wanted to marry and have three kids — god beware. The marriage she could deal with, as long her partner wouldn’t make her step back, but kids, no she wasn’t one for kids, or was she? She never really had thought about it. 

Wistful she remembered Freddie and her talking about it, that they could run away, with their (imaginary) children, what were their name again? Maude and Harry? Ah, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Having a child with Freddie, what a thought to shatter over it, and so she pushed it aside. Those possibilities were gone. No Freddie. No kids. No marriage. Nothing.

 _God, you’ll end up like your mother_ , her head fell forward into her hands, _or worse._ Whatever worse could be.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter soon. I have written much before I even started posting and now I throw everything into the market because then it's out and I can concentrate more on the chapters I haven't written yet. The grande finale! 
> 
> Thanks for reads and don't be shy with comments!


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Freddie has suggested, has an effect on Bel. Will she stop driving with Randall, and if so, how will Randall react to it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, because of some mentionings in this chapter, I want to remind you, this plays in the 50s. Yes, Bel and Randall are not married, but them dating or anything like that would have been probably most complicated (what will not stop me to write about it anyway), it's just to explain the worries those two have here and there. 
> 
> Again, I could have made a chapter break in the middle, but then it would have been to short and just left it. I am sure you guys don't mind.

At the end of the day, Freddie reached his article in — at four, and she glared at him, telling him she couldn’t promise him anything. He had smiled, like he used to do, promising her to be better next time, and then he made his apologies. They both knew, without talking about it, she would make it possible, so his story would air the next day.

 

“Listen, it was not my intention to anger you, it’s your business, and, of course, it’s nothing there when Mister Brown gives you a lift,” he meant it sincere, she could see it in his eyes. He had lost his temper earlier, “It’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe I was a bit…”

 

“Jealous?”

 

“Yes,” he frowned at his admission. “I miss you. The times we had. Even if it is only fifteen minutes in a car. That was all.”

 

“Freddie,” Bel clapped her hands together, “I know. I miss you too, but… I moved on, and you did too. You have Camille, and the baby and I hope you are happy. So what I do in my free time, what men I date — and I don’t date Mister Brown, just to make it clear as clear — is my business, and not yours.”

 

“I understand,” Freddie nodded, knowing he had made a mistake. “How about a peace offering? Come over for dinner on Saturday; we watch some movie. Camille would love to see you again, I think she needs a woman to brag about her pregnancy, and I would love to see you too. We drink wine, and eat crepes with a tonne of sugar.”

 

“I don’t know,” the thought of them drinking wine and eat sweets wasn’t bad at all, but how could it ever be again like in the past?

Bel had moved on; it didn’t mean she was ready to be all casually around Freddie and his wife. The last time had been all too horrible for her, but maybe it was a good test, to find out if she actually was able to move on, “I’ll think about it, okay.”

 

“Okay, this Saturday or the next, whatever you like. Don’t work too long, and sorry again that I was late,” he knocked against the door with his knuckles and then left her alone again.

 

When late evening came, and Bel was about to go, she found Randall stand by her door, and at this point (if not before) the seed Freddie had sown, was about to grow.

 

“I am about to leave, do you want me to drop you off at home?” it was a casual question Randall always asked the same way.

 

“Uhm,” she began, glancing at her papers. “I think I am taking the bus tonight.”

 

For a moment everything in Randall malfunctioned, he was so used driving her home, that her words made absolutely no sense to him. As he was good in veiling his emotions, he only nodded, “Then, don’t work too long. Good night, Bel.”

 

He nodded politely and then left, leaving Bel behind, who was now frustrated with herself. She waited another five minutes, then got dressed and left the office. She paid the price, as her bus was late and she needed almost an hour to get home.

Overall her anger, there was, at least, the possibility Freddie was right. People might talk. Because people were idiots — basically.

 

She had been in trouble back with Hector, what was natural when one considered the fact, that he had been married. People — not one of her people, but outsiders — could easily assume they had an affair.

It was well known, Randall wasn’t married, same as she wasn’t. Most people didn’t accept age-gap relationships; herself had not one pair with such a considerable age difference in her circle of friends and acquaintances. And she had to admit, if there would be one, she would frown upon it too -- at least at first.

  
  


Ten years were fine, but everything above let people raise their eyebrows and Randall was - well, how old was he? 54? Something like that and he was her boss; people would think she wanted to sleep her way up.

Now thinking about it, she wondered why she hadn’t heard any rumours yet. How must it look? Him and her in a car.

People could be all so insufferable, and greedy for gossip, no one would ask why she was getting into his vehicle and that it was only a friendly gesture.

No, people would earlier or later assume she was sleeping with him. Because of the job or god knows why.

 

Bel took a long shower that night, and drank a double vodka, before falling asleep on the sofa, and for a reason, she couldn’t get the picture of Randall being bewildered about declining his offer out of her head.

 

The next day Bel thought about what to do when Randall would show up at her door again, but luckily she could leave the office earlier, and it was a good excuse not to drive with him, and he usually never asked her when it was before five.

Also, the next week she found herself again on three days long in the office, and the scenario was the same as the week before. Randall showed up and asked her if she needed a lift and she declined.

Two times without reacting to it, he wished her a good night and left.

 

The third night, however, after she had told him, she would take the bus later, he stepped inside her office and closed the door.

 

“Was it something I said?” he asked.

 

Bewildered she reached for a stack of papers, hoping to conceal her guilty conscious, “What do you mean?”

 

“A week ago, there was no problem with me driving you home, and now suddenly it is,” he explained.

 

Bel tried to smile, what failed, “It’s nothing, it’s just,” one hand of her landed on top of a pile of papers, “there is a lot to do.”

 

Randall processed her words, weighing of what to say next. He could nod and just leave and let it be. They both knew he wouldn’t ask her again, and everything would go back to normal. And that was, what he not wanted.

They were already too far in their friendship built up, “I know you leave the office only five minutes after I have left. So would you please just tell me what it is, Bel, because I spent the last three days thinking about it, and can’t come up with an explanation. Did I anger you in any form?”

 

“I…how do you know I leave five minutes after?” Bel found herself in attack mode way too fast.

 

“I didn’t spy on you, I just found it odd, and on Monday I got delayed, and the moment I wanted to leave, I saw you leaving,” he explained. “After you had told me five minutes before, you would stay another hour. I admit, I stayed the next day, when you said the same, seeing you leave again quickly after me.”

 

Bel huffed defeated, “Guilty as charged. We can be all glad I didn’t become a spy. No, you didn’t say anything. It’s just people might talk, and I thought that wouldn’t be good.”

 

Now he understood, and needed to hold back an amused expression, “So you are afraid of gossip? Is that it?”

 

“Yes, of course! I mean-”

 

Randall held up a hand, “Why now? I drive you home for a couple of weeks now, and you didn't seem worried before, and now you are. The conclusion is, someone said something. Has someone suggest something indecent?”

 

“No, I haven’t heard anything,” she admitted in the end and found her worries now very idiotic. “It was … Freddie. He saw us and suggested, that others might come to the wrong conclusion.”

 

For an unknown reason, Randall broke out into a single laughter, covering his mouth, and Bel gaped at him. She had seen him laughing before, but this time, it was different. This time, there were little wrinkles around his eyes, and he showed even his teeth. That was new; that was a different man. After the first shock, she needed to laugh too.

 

“You’re laughing?”

 

“Yes, I am!” he couldn’t stop himself from grinning, amused about the situation and him losing the control of his facade. “That’s a first.”

 

“A first? I am sorry, I can’t follow you,” Bel said.

 

“People imagining I am having an affair with you,” he pointed at her with his hand. “I mean  _ I am _ having an affair. In general. Believe me, but, when people see us together, they will have no reason to believe other than me driving you home as a colleague. The thought of some people trusting me to have an affair with my producer was just too funny, not to laugh about.”

 

He still smiled, as if something in him had forgotten that he had put down the mask he was usually wearing, and for Bel, he looked, at least, ten years younger. There was a glow in his eyes, a happiness she hadn’t often seen in him. Emotions were rare with him, as he usually was all composed, stern and curt.

 

“Well,” she wasn't sure what to say and how to say what was on her mind now, “some people have their mind in the gutter and… and only because you are-”

 

“-old.”

 

“N-no, I wanted to say ‘you’. Only because you are you, doesn't mean…, “ she stopped, feeling lost.

 

“Bel, if you fear for your reputation, I will understand if you don't want me to drive you anymore, but if you fear for mine, I can assure you, there is no need. In the last 15 years, no one has ever suggested something like that in my direction. I am simply not the type.“

 

“I am feeling so silly now,” she dropped her head into her hands. “Again! Again I let myself manipulate by Freddie, I am such … I am so sorry, and I should drive you — when one day I will have a car — because of it.”

 

“Whatever Freddie's intentions were, he is not entirely wrong,” Randall stepped up to her door and took her coat off the hanger. “People could get the wrong impression, but again, with me, I think you are safe.” With that he held out her coat, waiting for her to slip it on.

 

She smirked, and did so, but couldn’t hold back the cheeky comment, “Don’t you think you are underselling yourself? I am almost offended by the thought, that people don’t believe that we have an affair,” when she saw his look, she realized she was babbling again. “I should start to use my brain. Sorry. I’ll never speak of it again.”

 

“Good,” Randall nodded, and held the door open for her, and when they stood in the lift, he reached into his pockets and pulled out the car keys holding them out to her. “Here.”

 

“I beg you pardon?”

 

“Well, didn’t you just say, you’ll drive me?”

 

With a smile, both not looking at each other but at the lift doors in front of them, she took the keys from him, “You know, I don’t have a license,” Randall turned his head, and his eyebrows twitched. Bel laughed, and left the elevator, turning toward him, “Gotcha! Passed my license without any mistakes years ago.”

 

He smirked at her walking toward the exit, before stepping outside the lift too to follow her. There wasn't a day, Bel Rowley didn’t surprise him.

 

##

  
  


When the next show was about to air, the newsroom and everyone was in an uproar. They had planned to interview a member of the parliament, but then the person had chickened out the last minute, so they had to make hectic phone calls to get someone else, and fill the gap.

 

On the other side, they were short on the film material they wanted to show that night. The developing lab in the house had to shut down for a week because the technical equipment had to be exchanged. And aside they had promised to be back at work the day before the show, Bel and Randall had already reckoned that it wouldn’t be so, and had told Isaac to send out all the films for development to another lab.

It all caused problems, and their schedule was tight already, and when there were just a couple of minutes left, they all fast-paced down to the studio.

They could run down the stairs, but the lift was usually always faster as the stairs — Isaac had once tried it out with Hector, who had challenged him for a few pounds. It had been one of the slower days when that had happened, but ever since, and when in a hurry, no one used the stairs anymore.

“Come on! Come on!” Randall waved Bel down the corridor, and she just slammed the receiver of the phone down and followed him. “Lix?” he asked.

“Still on the phone. Hold the door!” she called out to the people who just left he lift. “She’ll be there in ten minutes, but we need to be there in five.”

They both reached the small cabin, pressing the button for the basement at the same time when Isaac suddenly came around the corner with a large trolley, filled with equipment and film roles, "Wait!"

“Isaac!” Bel barked at him for not letting the door close.

“Sorry, Miss Rowley,” Isaac pushed the trolley inside, without caring that the space inside was almost not enough. “The lab needed forever, and I had to check the material before bringing it down to the studio.”

Randall and Bel shuffled nervously around in the cabin, while Isaac pushed the trolley inside, making Bel press against the wall, “Mister Brown, could you?” Isaac pointed him more toward Bel, and Randall snapped for air, glancing down his watch. As there was no time, he stepped to the side and turned with his front toward Bel, so the damn cart fitted -- including Mister Wengrow.

When the doors finally closed, they all let out an unnerved and relieved sight, and Randall felt not only one side of the cart press uncomfortably into his left leg, but also Bel right in front of him, looking at him with wide open eyes.

His one hand rested against the wall aside Bel’s head, the other he tried to leave where it was — in the air, not about to touch anything or anyone. There were a few more inches between them, but it was close enough to make his heart pace, and it was not because they were late for the show.

Bel hadn’t been aware, that the lift was so small, and only when Isaac, Randall, and the damn equipment had been shuffled inside, the doors had closed, and she had turned her head, she found Randall almost standing on her feet. Not more than two inches away from her.

The poor man couldn’t go anywhere, as the cart was evidently pressing — painful as it seemed -- against his legs, and she thought he was giving as much space as possible between them, what was very little.

She saw him swallow the moment their eyes locked, both becoming aware of their proximity, and it was not only her who had suddenly trouble to breathe.

It usually took half a minute for the elevator to get to the basement, where the studio was, but this time, it seemed to take forever. Bel eyes couldn’t look anywhere but him, without making the awkward situation more awkward, and so she let her eyes travel from his face, down to his tie.

The tie was dark red with little white dots while his eyes were green with blue and a bit of hazel, and she asked herself if she ever had noticed before, and why she now found that so fascinating.

 

And while pondering over it, another question popped up in her head. Out of the blue, and she needed to swallow herself hard because she found her curiosity directed at what aftershave he was using. It wasn’t Old Spice. Something she knew Freddie used from time to time.

The scent, she was able to breathe in was way different, lesser sea more Scottish probably, when she had to find a description for it.

Of course, she couldn’t ask him about it. How would that sound, foremost in front of Isaac, who faced the elevator door, almost pressed against it because there was no space, not noticing at all, that aside intense looks many questions seemed to arise in both their heads.

 

Feeling his breath hitch softly against her, she wondered who this man was. Who Randall was, when he wasn’t the Head of News. What was left, when one would take away the “Head of News” from him?

  
  


Before she could come to a conclusion the door opened and Isaac fell almost flat forward with a shriek, and they all shoved the cart outside. Randall stepped forward, nearly half down the small floor, when he turned back, seeing Bel still being caught between the cart, Isaac, and the lift.

Hearing Sissy call for them both, Randall ran back, pushed the cart further to the side and reached for Bel's hand to steady her and to tug her with him at the same time, "Too late; we are too late!"

 

He only let go of her hand again, when they stumbled through the door of the studio, and Bel had to go over to the microphone to signal Hector and Freddie the countdown for going live on air.

 

And while she listened to Hector’s opening welcome, she still could feel her hand tingle.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update... soon, I presume :D!


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's once a year. The big BBC dinner party. And with the invitations sailing in, things slowly start to change between Bel and Randall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, now we slowly getting serious here, I can promise you that!  
> It's a short chapter, this time, but in one or two there will be a very long one.

_ A week later.  _

 

Bel found the invitation in the morning on her desk but postponed to open it till after lunch. She knew what it was anyway. This sort of letter was always just from one addressed, the management of the BBC, and so she could guess very well what it was. 

An invitation to a big work-related dinner party in one of London’s finest hotels, with all the media people in London and the major cities of the country. A huge thing, 200 people, at least, a ton of food and gallons of champagne. Attendance expected. Bel Rowley hated it.

Last year she hadn’t went because she had been sick with the flue, and so Randall had to go alone and the year before, she had attended it with their old Head of News Mister Fendley, who had been the most boring table partner she could ever imagine. At that time, she hadn’t known he was a Soviet spy, what would have made everything more interesting.

The whole thing was simply a show-off and a sounding out of the others. For Bel it was almost unbearable, way too much testosterone and she hated how some of those married chief editors with a starting paunch looked at her — while their wives stood aside them.

It was disgusting. The only thing that mostly could cheer her up was that there was usually a dance floor. The problem most of the time was, that the men who wanted to dance with her, had mostly a little bit more in mind as just dancing.

Bel only could hope to get the flu again, but then Randall would have to go alone, and she was sure someone from the BBC would wonder why she was missing again this time, and, in the end, she only would pay the price for it. Sighing, she ripped the envelope open only to throw the thing half across her desk. 

 

“You received your invitation, too, I presume?” Randall stood by her door, entering when she made eye contact.

“Yes,” she made a face. “Ambassador Hotel. How fancy. I have a two-hour limit, just you know.”

Randall knew she never had been keen on going. Himself was not keen on going, but it was part of the job, and so it was not important that there was no real amusement. 

Drinks. Smoking. And too many words and promises and secret deals about this and that. It was good to hear into some rumours and their weighting, but they had to listen to a lot of useless information before getting the good stuff.

“A two-hour limit?” he asked, taking the invitation from her desk and placed it accurate onto a stack of papers.

“It means,” she grabbed for the invitation again, giving him an excusing smirk, and pinned it onto the pinboard, behind him, “I stay around two hours. After that, I am gone.”

He smirked at her, noticing that she pinned the card neatly aside another card, “Why is that so, Miss Rowley? I don't want to be tactless, but I had the impression you were one for a dinner party.”

Bel turned toward him with a smile, her arms akimbo, yes Randall had listened to her when she talked to him in the car, that was good to know, “I am, Mister Brown, but this dinner party is just an ordeal. First of all, too many men in one place can never be good. 

“Secondly, here a little secret, and that I only tell you because you told me what the last film was you’ve seen in cinema,” he rose an eyebrow at that, pursing his lips. “A good dinner party is only a good dinner party when one can dance there. And I am done dancing with some meddlesome, middle aged men all saucy with me — and half drunk.”

Randall shifted at his spot; he sometimes forgot how many obstacles a young, smart and beautiful woman like Bel had to take day by day, “I am sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not your fault,” she shrugged and went back behind her desk. “You’re going to bring someone?”

The question caught Randall by surprise, and he could see in Bel’s face, that she had asked him without thinking about it, and then he could see her mindless question had triggered another thought.

Aside she and Randall had gotten closer over their drives, had shared some personal thoughts and information about each other; she couldn’t be sure if he didn't have somebody outside the office. 

If so, she should ask him how he manage that, when being in the office so long and so often. Maybe he found time on the weekends? She never had asked, and he had never offered, and as she dated from time to time — although unsuccessful — she assumed he might do the same. Or not. It was an absurd thought. Of course, he didn’t date because he was Randall, she thought.

“No,” he answered, and then turned around to leave her office.

Later when he drove her home, she turned toward him, when they stood at a red light, “I am sorry, I not wanted to be indiscreet,” and he did as if he not knew what she was talking about.

Sometimes Bel was more confused with Randall as she ever was with Freddie, she thought. At one time Randall revealed to her his deepest secrets, that he had an affair with Lix, a daughter even, and the next, he did as if they only just had met, and didn’t know for almost two years.

Randall knew he treated Bel not always fair, but after he had seen her recover from her broken heart over Freddie, he thought it was the best to retreat again. 

It was harder as he had assumed at the beginning. He had let Bel into a circle, and as she was a young, open and lively woman, she quickly had made herself a little home there. She wasn’t disrespectful, she also never asked him all too personal questions, but there was something at her, when she came into his office, or when she talked with him down in the studio. 

At the beginning, when they had only just met, there was a certain hesitancy with her when they talked, and this was now gone. Instead, there was a gleam in her eyes she usually had when they had to discuss hard topics. What had been a tedious issue for her, was now one of her favorite doings as it seemed. 

And Randall, oh, it was one for him too. He liked her verve, her daring him, the intelligent way of arguing with him. It made them both better, pushed them toward better ideas and solutions. 

They both had become better in the last year, feeding off the other, making better decisions. By now they knew the other, knew how the other ticked. When he wasn’t there, Bel had become a good proxy as Head of News. As Randall as Producer. They worked hand in hand, and the success of the show reflected that they had grown to a good team. 

 

For Randall, that was satisfying as dangerous at the same time. He hadn’t forgotten the incident in the elevator —  the moment he had to corner her there and was way too close in his opinion. Instead of keeping his calm, he had noticed that his thoughts had went all different ways, leaving him puzzled why the only thought he had at that moment was, that he liked her perfume, and how a woman like her spent her evenings. The show forgotten, unimportant for thirty long seconds. 

It was not good; he shouldn’t think that way. Not with Bel Rowley, who he highly respected and had started to consider a friend. 

A Randall Brown had rules and assumptions he projected onto Bel, and he was sure the only thing Bel saw in him was a closer colleague, but not a dear friend. It was better so. If they would be too close, there was the chance they would hurt the feelings of the other while making hard decisions for the show. He had seen such thing in his career. Friends doing ambitious projects together only to be divided by demands of it. When he remembered correctly, it had been the same with Freddie and Bel who had — with Fendley — created The Hour.

That’s why he tried to step a bit back from her, without cutting off the possibility to drive her. Randall was of old, and way too used to grab his hat and suitcase and to walk to her office to ask her if she wanted to come with him. He told himself that it was courtesy, and sensed it was something entirely different. 

 

“Will you bring someone?” he turned at the end of the drive toward her, just when she was about to step out of the car. He not had wanted to ask; he never had if she hadn’t. Without knowing, Bel had inflicted something in Randall, and the question had bugged him all day long. 

He never wanted to ask, not for all the money in the world, but here he was again. Like Bel, he had stepped into a closer circle of Bel, and so he hadn’t been able to hold back. It was suddenly important for him to know. 

While she eyed him up, to find out what the sense of the question was — aside the obvious — he tried to answer the question to himself. As Bel sometimes declined his offer to drive her, because she was “meeting someone” he could assume she was dating here and there.

“Just my two-hour limit,” she answered and hopped out of the car wishing him a good night.

Randall cleaned his glasses while he waited for the light in her apartment to go on, then he sighed and drove home.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are looking forward to this dance party!!!


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner parties are there for talking, drinking, eating and oh... dancing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my favourite thing to write.

The party was in full swing; the official part was over, and now everybody mingled, danced, ate and chatted. Bel and Randall had some interesting talks with the chief editor from the office in Glasgow. They had some delicious food, and while Randall stuck to club soda or tonic water, Bel had allowed herself two vodka tonic, before also switching to tonic water, as any other alcohol level was way too obstructive to fend off blatantly obvious advances.

“Please, Randall,” Bel then stepped aside him after returning from the bar, “tell me, you find this event as chumming up and pretentious as I do.”

He chuckled in silence, watching a few couples on the dancefloor, “I admit, there are better places to be or better talks one can have. But it’s part of the job, and you have to admit here and there we got out some good information.”

“Yes, we have, but sometimes I think the sacrifices we have to make for such information are too big,” Bel sighed and drank from her water, “I rather have a decent contention in the newsroom with one of the lads from the higher floors, as hanging around here one minute more. Feeling their lusty looks and hearing their recommendations I should better marry soon before I'm past my prime. Schmucks!”

Randall kept his posture over her anger tirade, but felt his ears burn over her curse. Something at him must have reached her, as she turned to him, “I know you good enough, that you wouldn’t admit it, but you think the same.”

In silence he had to agree with her, and just when he wanted to tell her that her two-hour-limit was already passed ten minutes, Ryan Berkley, one of the chief editors of the London Times joined them. Good looking, in his early forties, accurate cut brown hair, and the suit emphasised his broad chest. 

They met from time to time at conferences or this dinner party, a man, married, but more unfaithful as Hector ever could be. Hobbies were sailing and fast cars, very handy to impress the sort of woman he was constantly looking for. 

On a personal level, Randall couldn’t stand him, on a professional level he had to admit the man wasn’t chief editor for nothing. A good writer, and a nose for stories. Charming and ruthless at the same time. And he was almost certain, that Mister Berkley had particular interests in Bel, as he usually always made enquiries about her. Or when they met, shamelessly but subtle hit on her. 

 

“Mister Brown! Miss Rowley! My two favourite people in the room,” he shook Randall’s hand and gave Bel a short kiss on the hand.

“Oh, Mister Berkley, you surely know, you shouldn’t start the conversation with a lie,” Bel turned to him, with a smug smile.

Berkley answered her comment with the same smugness, giving a look over to Randall, as if he was responsible for her, “Still sharp as a knife. Mister Brown it must be a delight working with someone like Miss Rowley.”

“I can only guarantee you, that Miss Rowley here, is probably the best producer the Hour has ever seen,” Randall said, nipping at his water to conceal his subtle glare.

“And can you imagine, Mister Berkley,” Bel added, “I haven’t paid Mister Brown for saying that.”

“I would never have thought such thing,” the younger man said. “There is no doubt; you do a good job, even after the tragic events in which Mister Lyon has voluntarily participated. How is he by the way? I heard he is almost back to old form.”

Randall could feel Bel would have loved to scratch the man’s eyes out, “Mister Lyon is back on top. Doing some research about Senator Milverton, it seems there is clear case of tax dodging. Haven’t you heard?”

“Yes, we are on that too,” Berkley shrugged. “The man is incompetent. Every school boy could have dodged his taxes better as this man.”

“Indeed, that’s why we think he has been framed,” Randall went on, feeling Bel’s eyes on him, apparently asking herself why he told Berkley about it.

“Framed? Oh, come one, what for? The man is innocent as a lamb,” Berkley chuckled sipping from his martini. “Sure, that you guys don’t waste good people on lousy topics? Maybe I should ask Mister Lyon to work for  _ me _ .”

Bel laughed up stagy, “Good luck with that, Mister Berkley. But if you insist, I can give you his number, so he can tell you his ‘no’ personally.”

“Miss Rowley, I admit, when I don't see you, I really miss our conversations. Your way is quite unique,” then his eyes travelled down her face over her neckline, and Bel rolled her eyes unseen. “You still haven’t chosen a man to marry by the way?”

“And you care for that why?” Bel snapped. “You surely not want to point out you are an option. I think your wife would have a problem with it.” After that, she unquestionably needed another drink, or she would slap the man in front of all.

Ignoring her remark about his wife, Berkley knew he had hit a spot, and just smiled devilishly at her, “A beautiful woman, smart as you; wouldn’t it be a waste not to marry?”

“Mister Berkley,” Bel was now ready to spill her drink into his face, but felt Randall shuffle a bit closer, and so she held back, “as usual you are charming as ever. But I think it would be better if you wouldn’t bother that lovely head of yours with  _ my  _ personal matters.”

Before either Berkley or Bel could go on in their argument, Randall placed his glass away and touched Bel by the arm, “That was interesting meeting you Mister Berkley, let us know what you find out about the Milverton case, if you like.

"And no, you don’t need to call Mister Lyon, he has his principals, and working for you would break probably a lot of them. And now, excuse us, there is a two-hour-limit we have to stick to.”

With that Randall dragged Bel carefully away, leaving a seething Mister Berkley behind, who would soon find back to his old self, and mingle with the other pretentious editors or just go looking for one of the background singers who he could twist around his fingers.

 

“That’s why I hate those dinner parties,” Bel got het up over the situation. “How could you keep so calm?” it was a stupid question to ask, Bel knew that. Randall’s small ‘outbreak’ at the end seemed calm but she had sensed he had been angry. “I mean how can you keep so calm on the outside?”

“Outer calmness is like armour, Bel. You wear it not because it is comfortable; you wear it-”

“-So no one can hurt you,” she finished.

Her eyes must have betrayed her because Randall lowered his looks to the ground for a moment as if he felt exactly that, uncomfortable. 

Yes, calmness was his armour, and also his mannerisms, his suit, his glasses, and the way he used to talk sometimes. Years in fear of rejection, years of compunctions because of Lix and Sofia and years of waking up at night, haunted by memories of the Civil War — like he was a film, that never had made it to development.

The secret called Randall Brown had lost a bit of magic in the last few weeks, and Bel had been able to look behind the armour, the suit, or whatever he guarded himself with it. 

She had never thought how interesting he could be aside work. That he was brilliant and clever, and attentive. This was no news to her, but aside that she had always guessed he might be quite monotonous in his private life. 

Worst, she never had thought about it anyway. She hadn’t cared what he was doing at home, but now, through all the time they shared while he drove her, she had realized he was a man with many facets. Liked cooking, enjoyed old movies in the telly. Had a secret passion for photo exhibitions, modern art, and used to draw a little in his youth. 

 

To break the silence again, Bel turned toward the dance floor and motioned toward it, “And the actual worst is, I didn’t even had the chance to dance. God Christ!”

“I am sure Mister Berkley would have loved to dance with you,” Randall said, not looking at her, just holding back a smirk while watching other couples dance to the jazz band.

“Oh, Mister Brown, I think I truly underestimated you. You can be quite cheeky, can’t you?”

“Don’t get used to it, Miss Rowley,” he finally let the smile reach his eyes. “How serious is your two-hour-limit, when I may ask? Are any lives depending on it? “

Bei laughed and checked the clock, “Except my own, none. Why do you ask? Do you want to tell me, there is a reason to stay longer? Another conversation we have to have with one of those -- schmucks?“ she pointed into the room with her glass in hand, amused because it felt like she and Randall were the only sane people in the room. Two close friends, having fun, judging the others.

“Don't worry, I don't plan on having another tiresome conversation,“ he smiled, reached then for her glass and took it away from her. “How about the next three and a half minutes?”

“The next three and a half minutes?” she frowned, following her glass with her eyes that been placed on a table nearby. “What can possibly happen in the next three and a half minutes?”

“When I am not mistaken,” Randall stepped up to her, holding out his hand, “it’s the duration of the next song, and it’s my way of asking if you would like to have this dance with me?”

For a moment Bel was starstruck, looking at Randall’s hand, and then at him, before smiling, and then giving him her hand. 

When she admitted it, she had thought about dancing all evening, because it was the only pleasant thought she could make herself get through the evening without getting a fit or a depression. 

What she hadn’t thought about was, that Randall would ask her. Not that he hadn’t been an option, but she a had assumed he was no one for dancing. While he led her slowly onto the dancefloor, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Could Randall dance? Probably. Could he dance well? She had no idea.

Randall smirked, waiting that she placed her hand on his shoulder before he placed his on her back, knowing she was unsure about the situation and what to expect, “Don’t worry, Bel, I’ve received dance lessons by my mother, when I was a twelve-year-old,” and when he saw her blush he added, “I am very good with Charleston.”

It helped to break the ice, and when the music started —  it was _not_ a Charleston, Bel was still giggling softly over the image of a twelve-year-old Randall getting Charleston lessons by his mother. Instead, it was the tune of the French classic “La Vie En Rose” by Edith Piaf playing, and soon Bel found herself softly swaying with Randall around the room.

For a moment, she was afraid to make a mistake, but Randall gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leading her perfectly. His eyes were always directed at her, and soon she found herself relax into the dance and even got a little lost in his warm embrace.

Somewhere in the room, she was sure about that, was a Mister Berkley watching them, looking at the producer and the head of news of The Hour dancing together. Guessing Randall gave her a pity dance, or she gave one to him, but that it wasn’t.

The next day, she might tell a friend about it. About her, who had to go to this gruesome dinner party, all work and no fun, and that the food had been delicious, the people had been insufferable and the band in the upper top. 

Then she would say that the only good thing was, that she had been asked to dance, and everybody would ask who had been the saviour. A film boss? A banker? Was he handsome? Tall? Rich? Hopefully not married, Bel!

Before she could play the scenario further in her head, she saw Randall raise an eyebrow at her, giving her one of his low-key smiles.

He had seen her thinking, and because she was caught she blushed. Bel cast down her eyes for a second, “I never guessed you for a skilled dancer, Mister Brown.”

Randall had to admit he found a strange pleasure in the fact, that she still sometimes called him by his last name when they were alone. Leaning closer so he could whisper into her ear, “Don’t tell the others, Miss Rowley.”

Feeling his breath against her ear sent a chill down her spine, and before they both realized what was happening, her hand laid closer by his neck, near to his skin. Randall had closed the gap between them while turning with her, feeling her breath hitch against his throat, feeling his blood rush through his veins.

Bel felt his warm hand through the fabric of her dress, knowing his hand was no more as high as it should be but still nowhere indecent, right in the middle of her back, over her spine, holding her close. 

Suddenly she wondered, what it would have felt like if she had chosen a dress with a back neckline — she had a dress like that, but wearing it for such occasion would be close to a scandal. 

She had bought it after she had broken up with Hector, and while Freddie was away. It had been for a date, that in the end never had shown up. It hadn’t been the best times of her life back then. The dress was lovely and was made of silk, and she hadn't wanted to bring it back or throw it away, so she had kept it, hoping one day there would be an occasion to wear it.

The last time she had danced was having a silly dance with Freddie, both making exaggerated moves to some up-tempo song, chuckling while being drunk, nothing that could compare with this. 

 

This dance wasn’t silly at all, this dance was doing strange things to her and her belly, and suddenly she had forgotten about her two-hour-limit, about the gruesome dinner party and about an insufferable Mister Berkley. 

This dance was all about Randall Brown leading her through the room, to a beautiful tune — a damn love song — with no space between them at all, and with her hand by his neck, her thumb touching the rim of his hairline.

Slowly, Bel began to understand, that her stomach wasn’t getting sick, and that she hadn’t wondered about Randall’s hand without a reason.

No, this wasn’t a pity dance, this was her stomach filling up with butterflies. This was Bel Rowley falling in love. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys don't know what Charleston is, please do yourself a favour and watch some youtube vid and imagine young Randall. It will make your day.


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They dance. They leave each other. They meet again at work. What can a dance do to someone? Is Bel really in love? Will... can she tell Randall? What has he to say, what does he feel? Oh, it is always all so complicated!

She had stepped back from him out of a sudden,  with a silent gasp and an expression in her eyes, Randall could only identify as shock, still holding his hand, her other now on his lower arm.

Randall didn’t know what had happened and looked at her confused while the last tune of the song came to an end. All the pairs around them separated and thanked their partners, before the next song set in, “Bel?”

Again she sucked in another stream of air, seeing the other couples part, and so Bel took her hands away, and because the expression on her face hadn’t changed, Randall was sure he had done something wrong. Shouldn’t he have asked her to dance? Had he been too close?

“I am sorry,” Bel said first, beating him to his reaction. Then she shook herself out of the shock, smiling at him, but not exactly looking at him. “I just remembered something. It’s late. We should go. I mean I should go, I not want to ….”

It must have something to do with him; he was sure of it, why else would be such reaction, and in his insecurity, he nodded and left with her without addressing the matter. There was no reason for him to stay, and he wanted her to get home safely. 

After they had got back their coats, the next surprise waited for him, when she told him, she not meant to bother him, and would take a cab back home.

“The office will pay, so,” she smiled in a haste, and he couldn’t get rid of the feeling, that she wanted to get away from him as fast as possible, “don’t worry. I bothered you long enough today.”

“If it’s what you want,” he followed her out of the hotel, seeing a few cabs waiting for guests so they could take them home. “Are you sure everything's okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she was about to step into the cab when she stopped one more time as if something got the better of her, and if it were just her manners. 

Turning toward Randall, who looked utterly perplexed, she gave him one of her smiles, the one with the half sad eyes, he had seen quite often since he was driving her, “It’s just…,” where was her courage when she needed it, “it was a lovely evening. Thank you. I see you in the office. Good night, Randall.”

 

He saw her drive away in the cab, his hand buzzing, where she had touched him for a short time when she had wished him goodnight. It was a cool night, and only when a chill ran through his body, he realized everything had happened in such a hurry, and he wasn’t wearing his hat or coat yet. Quickly he shoved it over, and returned to the main door, waiting for one of the servers to get his car. 

Mindless he tipped the young man way too much and drove home in a daze. He couldn’t get sense into what had happened, into why Bel had suddenly behaved so odd. 

 

When he reached his apartment, he went into his bedroom, where he used to undress and to hang his suit and the used shirt neatly up, before bringing them to the cleaners on the weekend. 

His fingers undid the buttons of his shirt, and when he reached the last one, he just stopped without moving on. Starring at his reflexion in the mirror in front of him, he went through the events of the evening one more time. 

Them talking and eating, and then Mister Berkley and Bel’s outbreak. Him leading her away and asking her to dance. 

He had been so sure she had wanted to dance. Not only because she had said so, but because he had seen her observe the couples dance while they had talked to the others. Again and again, her eyes had wandered toward the dance floor and when she thought no one could see her — while she had waited at the bar for her drink — she had softly swayed with the music. 

It had needed him a big chunk of courage to ask finally. He hadn’t looked like it, but deep inside he had been nervous and afraid she would say no. Would find it ridiculous of him to ask her. Or, that it wasn’t a good idea, because he was Randall and she was Bel, and because they were colleagues and people might talk about it. 

His confused mind ignored the fact, that a few others had come alone to the party and had decided to dance together, without thinking one second about rumours. 

Instead, she had said yes, and he had not only felt relieved, but happy, and he made the joke about his mother teaching him Charleston, what wasn’t a lie, and then she had smiled at him what made him happier.

Then he had seen her thinking, a fascinating observation, seeing her eyebrows twitch just the tiniest bit while her eyes had fixed a point in the distance and he guessed Bel had never believed in a dance that night, let alone with him, and here she had been. 

After that, he had forgotten where he was, and only had eyes for her, feeling her fingertips around his neck, feeling his palm on her back, her spine moving under it. 

Her telling him she hadn't guessed him for a dancer and he had found the comment as charming as surprising, leaning forward to whisper into her ear -  as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Her perfume, subtle with a touch of almonds crawling into his nose.

The memory made him smile, and then he caught his reflection in the mirror. The smile dropped, and now it was him having the expression of shock and horror painted on his face. 

Stepping back, he sat down on the bed, finally remembering what he was thinking, seconds before Bel had broken away from him.

That he never wanted the dance to end.

 

##

 

Hectically she paid the driver, only to storm up the stairs to her apartment, needing a felt eternity to open her door, that was still not repaired, before she finally could run straight to the fridge where she got the vodka bottle out, purring her good three fingers into a smaller glass.

Taking a gulp from it, she flopped down her sofa, her head resting against one of the pillows, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she took another sip, before placing it away. This couldn’t be true; it simply couldn’t.

“That’s not happening!” she called into the silence of her apartment. “It’s … Brown!” Bel stared out of the window for five solid minutes reflecting the evening and all it’s happening. 

Happenings? Nothing had happened. It was only her, dancing. A dance, between friends. Colleagues. At a dinner party. A work related one.

She closed her eyes; the music was still playing in her ears, and when she listened intently to her body, the spot where his hand had lain, was still reacting. 

It had been a pleasant feeling swaying with him over the dancefloor. A dance, one of her favourite things to do. With Randall. His warmth had radiated against her body, his aftershave crawling into her nose, his warm hand holding her, leading her through the room like he did nothing else in his off time.

His intense looks had caught her unguarded, the way he had peered down at her. Not like her Head of News, not like a friend. More like a man wanting to devour her, and that had been something she never had expected from Randall Brown. 

Others, yes, but there had been a difference, between him and the others. Devouring her, yes, but not in a cheap way. She couldn’t explain when someone would ask. The only thing she knew it hadn’t been uncomfortable for her.

“No, no,” Bel reached for the glass and drank the rest of it. If it was true, and she just couldn’t believe in it, because if so, she was in trouble.

 

Eventually, Bel fell asleep at some point during the night, restraining herself from the rest of the alcohol. It wouldn’t have been a good effect on her the next day. 

The time she laid awake, the only thing she could think of was Randall and the dance they had shared. 

She tried not to fight it, just let the thoughts ramble through her mind, and as they were now uncontrolled, they did as they liked. Coming back to past events between her and him. 

Randall telling her not to work too late, in a moment of impulse, and she answering “always!”,Almost a bit cheeky, and he had smirked at her. 

Of them sitting aside in his office, and her touching his hand. Only there she remembered how stiff he had been at this moment. Because he was peeved or shocked? Or was she over-analyzing?

She had searched his near, without knowing, and when he wasn’t there, or when he sometimes left her mid-sentence, because it was his way, she felt a loss. The same loss she felt when she stepped out of his car, when walked into her apartment, turning on the light and then glancing out of the window, seeing him drive away. 

Whatever this was, it hadn’t begun with the dance. It started weeks, or months ago. There was a chance it had begun the night she had bumped into him after he had the little argument with Lix. 

#  
  


When Randall woke up the next morning, he was out of track. He hadn’t hung up a new suit or a new shirt because he had kept sitting on his bed thinking about Bel for a long time. And when he had felt fatigue befall him, he had finally undressed completely, had slipped over his pyjama and had gone to bed. 

Now he was late, and the trained handgrips were forgotten, and the worry that he had done something that had angered Bel was steady on his mind. 

Was he getting old? Becoming a fool? Maybe it was him needing a vacation, getting away for a bit to get all those thoughts straight again. Making them stop, and not revolving around Bel Rowley for a moment. 

While he was twenty minutes late, he decided to look into her reactions that day and either it was nothing, or he had to approach the suspect. 

He would certainly not urge her to anything, and if necessary, he would excuse his behaviour the other night. Telling her that it hadn’t been his intention to make her feel uncomfortable, and if he in any way had acted as one of the men she had mentioned before, he would excuse. He would tell her that his friendly affection for her was misinterpreted by her because any other affection was ridiculous to believe in.

With a sigh, he sat down in his car and drove to the studio.

  
The day turned out busier as planned, and neither Randall nor Bel had been able to talk with each other. Also, Randall had quickly the hunch that Bel always chose the moment to leave a room, when he was stepping inside of it. 

Not that he wasn't good in ignoring, but by now, the only thought he had was to fix this. Whatever this was. He had learned his lessons in life and he not wanted to make another mistake with Bel. And so he approached her in the afternoon, when most of the staff had gone already.

 

“Bel?” Randall had watched her a few moments sorting through the mail compartments, before losing his patience, “Miss Rowley! Would you please tell me what is the matter, because I know there is a matter, and your acting is rather childish. If you don't want me to elaborate, you have to tell me, but not saying anything at all is not the solution.”

She gawked at him, papers in hand, her heart was beating fast. Randall was right, she had acted like a child all day, and it was all but fair, but she hadn’t been able to have one straight thought around him, let alone the hectic of the day because the show had aired, “Yes, I know, it’s childish. The whole matter is childish!” she then exclaimed, and placed the papers on a desk with a thud.

Randall was irritated, “Is it something that Mister Berkley has said?” before he came forward if it was him, he wanted to sort out all other possibilities. If there was a chance not to look like a fool, he would gladly take it.

“No,” Bel shook her head. “What he said, was insolent and mean, but … no.” She waited for him to ask another question, but when nothing came, she just walked by him.

“You haven’t exactly told me, not to ask about it,” he turned to her, stopping her by the door, “so the question is, what is it then? And do you want to tell me? Has Hector done something again I don’t know about?”

“Hector? No!” Bel considered Randall and her chances. She could say nothing and be bothered by her feelings and the question if he was interested. What would slowly ruin her sane mind and also the relationship she had with Randall. 

She didn't want that, so the only way was to tell him, but how could she without being all bold —  fearing rejection—  what would then again lead to a rupture in their friendship. Why was this always all so complicated? “Can we go to your office?”

“Of course,” Randall nodded and pointed with a hand toward it, following her quickly. He didn't guess anyone else was still there. A bit earlier he had seeneven Lix leave, who still liked to work very late and sleep in the office.

Bel waited till Randall had closed the door, standing a little lost in his room, unsure if she should sit down, but she knew herself. She needed the motion, as she was unable to sit still while having such talk. 

Randall watched her, hesitated, and then decided to sit into his chair, his hands gripping around the rests, waiting for her to begin. He didn’t know what to expect but feared she would tell him now, that his behaviour had been unacceptable.

“I consider you a friend, Randall. And you always have given me good advice, about the show, or about life… Freddie in particular,” Bel wished her heart wouldn’t beat so loud because she was certain it must echo through the room and she so could not concentrate.

Hearing the boy’s name, he frowned, he had been sure, she was over Freddie, and now there was the possibility she was not, “So it’s about Freddie then?”

“No, I am over Freddie — at least so far I can tell,” she gave the words a sad smile before continuing, “I think, I..., you know, there is this man I see — from time to time.”

“Ah,” a boy then, Randall thought, another one. So she was dating someone, and it was not about him and yet, he felt his heart sink. “I don’t understand. I am not exactly the person giving advice for dating, as you know.”

“I am not dating him!” Bel swirled around, closing her eyes for a moment to become aware of herself. “Oh god, I’m making a fool out of me, you are right, I shouldn't bother you.”

“No, no! Wait,” Randall stood up from his chair. “I offered you once advice when you need it, and even this is not my usual department I’d like to help. I’ve seen you all day, and it apparently confuses you.”

“Are you sure?”

“You have feelings for the boy?” Randall scolded himself for being so patronizing, knowing it was a hidden jealousy that made him make the remark.

Bel only smiled at it, “I am not quite sure yet, but I found myself thinking about him a bit too often.”

“And, he has feelings for you?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. It’s rather complicated,” she had thought her heart would jump out of her chest with every word she told, but surprisingly it slowly settled into a steady pace. Fast, but steady. She took it as a hint to be on the right way. Also, she would not come out and tell him she was talking about him. “We are friends, and we meet up from time to time.”

Randall considered her, “Back when I was young, we used just to ask the woman out when there was an interest,” Randall suggested, knowing very well he never had been the bold extrovert, asking out the girls he once fancied. “If you want to take that as advice.”

“Aside that the problem is, that he could say no, I am sure it would damage our friendship, and I want to spare myself being all awkward around him all the time,” Bel finally had settled onto Randall’s sofa, sighing over the situation.

“It’s someone from the BBC, isn’t it?” Randall realized, and without that, he couldn’t stop himself when a list of names started to rattle through his head. “You wouldn't have phrased it like this if it wasn’t like it.”

Bel kept silent, only looking at him, while he stood there by the corner of his desk, thinking through the problem. 

Unsure if the penny was about to drop. Probably not yet, but every word more would make him find out. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe slow when it came to this topic, but certainly not a fool.

“I see,” he then said, having limited the list of names down to three, and every one of it would be a huge disappointment to him. “I’m not want to be indiscreet, Bel, but allow me the question; are your feelings… honest? Real? I mean — I know you said you aren’t sure — but, do you think…?” God, he couldn’t even phrase it.

Bel came to his help, “You mean if my feelings are promising? Yes, I think they are, but there is confusion.”

“Why?”

Bel slowly stood up, “Because we are so different, and I am very sure, that if he doesn't reflect my feelings, he will be not only very flustered but also retreat from me. Yes, I am sure of it, and I’m not the kind of person, who could deal with that on a daily basis.”

It was the first time Randall had to frown upon her words, rearranging the list in his head once more, because not one name seemed to fit there. All of them were bright, brisk and probably lovely chaps, and none of them was married, and he couldn’t imagine one of them turning down her advances.

“Well, whoever the lucky one is, he probably would be a fool to turn you down, but of course, when there are no feelings, it would be unfair to play with yours. My advice is, you should tell him, and if he indeed acts that way, he is just a boy, unable to deal with a woman like you. If he is a man, he will tell you what he feels, or not feels, and he will stay your friend, and not act weird or stupid around you," his voice had cracked, and Randall felt he had enough. 

What did she want from him, and why was she looking like that at him? All eyes, half sad, half hopeful. Hopeful? Why hopeful? What did she want? He wouldn’t take her by the hand, walk her to the boys office, so she could tell him. No, that was the last thing he wanted do.

By now he was sure it was someone from the financial office. Bel had to talk with them here and there, and he once had noticed a dark haired chap, who had looked at Bel in a manner that suggested particular interest. 

Maybe it was him, maybe not. What did he care, it wasn’t his business. She was not his business, and never would be it. He was a fool, he was old, and they were just friends, and because of it, he had to accept that she did date other men. Bel Rowley was young, smart and beautiful and of course, deserved a partner, a future and how sober one could be to believe really for just one second, that he had a chance. Bel Rowley dating him. The joke of the year!

Randall walked over to his locker, taking out his jacket, slowly slipping it on. He had been alone for too long, and spending time with Bel probably had made his aching for company go haywire. 

Yes, that it was. He was projecting something at her, she wasn’t and never could be. Closing the locker again, he decided he had to spend more time with woman his age -- or with no woman at all.  

Bel could see him think like he had been able to see her think during the dance. Emotion over emotion flickering over his face. Anger, confusion, discontent, even bemusement.

All the time, while she watched him getting dressed, she hoped the penny would finally drop, but obviously, her hints weren’t good enough while his advice was as always perfect as a matter of fact not even riddlesome. 

He was assuming someone else for the chosen one, and now there was a damage done because she maybe not could see that he was interested, but she could clearly see, that he didn't agree on her dating someone. What could only be because he didn't want to be the person she would later come to, to cry on his shoulder. Randall Brown interested in her? Not in a life time.

And yet.

“So, when a girl comes to you, — let’s say the one you drive home every day —  and tells you she has feeling for you, you still would be her friend?” Bel then asked. 

 

He sighed, she was testing his patience without noticing; he thought, “Uhm, Bel, I am sorry, it’s not about me. I gave you the advice, but when I am honest, I can’t tell you how I would react. You know I don’t have that many friends, so the chances are very slim,” he grabbed his bag, gently pressing his hat against his chest, facing her. “The thing about giving advice is, that the people who ask for it, never enquire if one gives the advice because of personal experience. They are so desperate to have one; they don’t care. What I did say I meant, if he is honest and good, he will not act respectless or childish, but don’t make me tell you how I would react, because -” what was that about driving the girl?

It was the way of Bel looking at him, something in her eyes, which made the penny finally drop. The anger got pushed away by confusion, quickly followed by worries and more confusion. 

Yes, now he definitely knew she had been talking about him.

 


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Randall react to Bel's confession?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this one since forever in my drafts, and I am so excited still!

The expression on his face, made her heart sink. What had she expected from Randall Brown? An outbreak of happiness? A scene from a silly little romance film?

“Yes, I am talking about you,” Bel said, only to be sure the message would be received. “And the way you look at me now, makes clear you have no interest. I want to be honest, I haven’t expected anything else. In your eyes I must be just an overexcited girl sometimes, babbling all day long, whining over men I was too stupid to hold and now standing in the office of my Head of News, telling him, that I spent last night bickering with myself about how stupid it would be to have feelings for you. Because clearly the difference between you and me is not only obvious in age and profession, but in every other aspect in our lives,” she lowered her eyes, sighing long. 

Bel felt better now, relieved she had said it. Disappointed of course, but deep down she hadn’t expected anything else. Hopefully they both would overcome this scene and stay friends. If not, then so it would be. She had said nothing for so long, that in the end it had cost her Freddie, and it had been a life lesson to her.

“Don’t worry, Randall,” she found him looking at her, almost startled, still his hat pressed against his chest, “I won’t mention it again. Don’t feel obliged to ask me to drive me again, I managed to get home before you, I’ll manage again. I knew you wouldn’t have interest, but in the last few months I learned to say what is on my heart.”

“Bel,” it was more a whisper, and when she heard him say it, her eyes flickered back at him. Realization crashed over Randall. He had done nothing wrong, obviously all to the contrary. “I am…,” a smile flickered over his face, and then he willed it away. No, he couldn’t tell her. He was no match for her. She deserved better. “Goodnight, Miss Rowley.”

It had been something in his eyes. A gleam full of hope and feelings, the same feelings Bel had, before he had veiled himself again, deciding it was not good to admit it.

_ Oh, my God! He is interested, _ Bel’s head screamed in silence, while she watched him hurry past her, out of the door down the floor toward the lift, “Mister Brown! Randall!” she reacted quickly, following him.

Randall didn’t turn, now acting all stupid, exactly how he said one shouldn’t act, but it was too much for him. Deciding to take the stairs instead of the lift, he hurried down.

“Wait!” Randall was quick, and Bel almost slipped in her heels, while running down the stairs. “You have interest, haven’t you?”

Randall stopped, by the turn of the steps, his shoulder touching the wall behind him in the narrow staircase, while Bel stood at the head of the staircase from the last floor. 

Fighting for composure, he lowered the briefcase onto the floor, and took his hat off, letting his finger trail around the edge, “I think we should go home, and forget about it.”

Bel stepped down one stair toward him, her hand gripping hard around the rail, “You're aware that you now acting like a boy?  _ And  _ you didn’t answer the question.”

“What does it matter?” he leaned a bit forward. “I am sure your feelings are just… misguided.”

“Misguided?” she couldn’t believe he said such thing. “So, as long it was not about you, it was okay to say what was on my mind and heart, and now suddenly my feelings are misguided?”

“I thought you were talking about someone who is not your boss and foremost more your age!”

“I never thought about all this,” Bel replied. “And now you say it, I don’t care. You are not my age, whatever. You are my boss, well, where is the problem? Answer the question! Is it true? Do you think the same? Feel the same?”

He huffed, was cornered, and torn between the truth and a lie, “What is it you feel?”

“When we danced yesterday, I felt… I felt close to you, and I saw us in the past, sitting beside each other, talking and enjoying the conversation. Me touching your hand and then… I grasped, that I wait every night for you to come and ask me to drive me home, because it’s the favourite time of the day for me.”

He could see it in her eyes, that she had honest feelings for him, promising ones. For a second he couldn’t have been more happy about it, and then Randall got afraid, afraid it would only last a day, till Bel would find out who he really was. That he was boring, uninteresting, none of those hot shots, she had have affairs with in the past.

A jolt went through him, and he quickly reached down to get his briefcase, while he muttered, “I am no one for a short affair, Miss Rowley.”

Luckily his words sunk in quickly, and before she wasted time to answer properly, she ran down the chairs, “That’s not-” missing the last stair, Bel slipped, about to fall, but Randall had seen it coming in the corner of his eyes, letting his briefcase and the hat fall to the ground, before reaching out to her. 

With a thud she fell against him, her hands landing on his chest, and Randall with her against the wall, his hands around her waist.

Both flabbergast they glanced with wide open eyes at each other. Bel swallowed hard and saw Randall tremble for a bit. He hadn’t been sure, to reach her on time.

“Are you alright?” they both asked at the same time, giving it a breathless smile.

Randall licked his lips, subconsciously looking at her mouth, before he came aware that neither of them was about to part from the other.

“This has happened before,” Bel then began. “Do you remember?”

No, he couldn’t. How? His brain was everything but working at the moment, not with her, so close, her hands burning a hole into his jacket, “I beg you pardon?”

“A few weeks ago, in the elevator,” her eyes glanced down at her fingers on his jacket, covering the lapels. If she moved them, she could touch his neck. “But it was me against the wall and now-”

“-I remember,” he breathed and showed not the slightest inclination of moving away from her.

Bel now found the courage to touch the collar of his shirt and with that, part of his skin, she could already feel a thin shadow, “I’d wondered…”

Her touch made him almost give up, and give into her advances, because everything she had said, had confessed was an invitation into more, “Wondered what?”

“What you were thinking in that moment,” she felt one of his hands slide up her side a bit, pulling her half an inch closer toward him. Bel saw that he was torn between an honest answer and a denial, between leaning in and gently shoving her away and tell her good night. “You were thinking something, I could see it, as I can see it now.”

“You are a good observer, Miss Rowley,” his tongue flickered over his lower lip again, he was well aware that she was still caressing his neck with the faintest touch possible, and that it sent shiver over shiver through him, making the fingers of his right hand draw little circles on her back.

“Are you afraid I will judge you, for your thoughts?” unwillingly her body jerked slightly forward, but Randall held her back, but she had registered that he had leaned in too.

“There is a chance you will,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What if I promise I won’t, or better I tell you what I have thought. What if I tell you, that I realised that your eyes are not straight green, but with some blue and some hazel spots, and I was wondering what aftershave you use. It’s the same you wear now,” stopping she touched his jawline. “I like it, just you know. And foremost I was wondering what’s underneath all this. Your suit, the glasses. What kind of person Randall Brown, Head of News is left, when there is just … just Randall.”

How long they were standing there already, in the narrow staircase, dancing around each other, both knowing they wanted nothing more as to kiss each other. Minutes or hours? The anticipation ran high between them, and Bel wasn’t sure how long she could take all this without fainting.

Yes, Randall had made some rash decisions in his life, mostly when he had been younger. Whatever it was what between Bel and him was starting to happen, he had decided not to go into it lightly or rash. 

It would have been easy to just kiss her there, and a Randall Brown was only a man in the end, with needs and hopes and under all that what isolated him from this world, ran lust too. 

He took her hands away from his chest, clasping them tight, feeling they were cold, when a door somewhere in the building panged shut. 

Ripped out of the moment, they both jumped, but Randall managed to keep holding her hands, “Let’s get you home. Get your coat; I get the car.”

Unsure how he meant it, she stepped hesitant back from him, afraid he would leave her behind, but he gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, and nodded with a smile, and so she nodded too and hurried back up the stairs to her office, to get her coat and purse.

When Bel was out of sight, Randall collapsed once more against the wall for a few seconds — he was a wreck inside. Then he leaned down grabbed his briefcase and the hat and hurried toward the exit.

It was drizzling and a look to the sky told him, a downpour was on it’s way — they had something said about it earlier in the radio. 

Pacing through the drizzle, he jumped into his car, and drove to the entrance, seeing Bel come out. 

 

“It’s going to rain soon,” he said without thinking anything, when she sat aside him.

“It seems so,” was her answer, and awkward silence fell between them. The engine ran, and the first warm air funneled out of the demister. The drizzle slowly turned into thick drops, drumming against the front shield, with the headlights of the car as only light source — the lighting of the building turned off over the night.

Bel wondered how long they would sit there before someone would say something, and that someone only could be Randall in her eyes, because she had said so much already. Her heart been spilled out in front of him, he knew everything he needed to know and when he wasn’t able to react to it, she might had to accept that he was not ready to have a relationship with a woman.

Turning his head toward her, she thought he might had heard her thoughts, “You must think something of me now, right? I am telling you about how a man should act, and I am … I just stand there, and do nothing at all. 

"I was in the Civil War and Normandy, but I can’t remember a day I was as hamstrung as today. Yes, I have feelings for you. I needed quite a while, but when we danced together I had the same realization as you had, that to ask you to drive you home, is also my favourite time of day. 

"And, yes I am afraid of what you will think of me. Afraid you'll reject me when I tell you that I — back in the lift — had found your perfume more than alluring, and if Mister Wengrow wouldn’t have been there, I think I would have kissed you already there.

"I am attracted to you, mind and body, and I feel indecent for it, because I think I am a bit old for you. Old, past his prime, bachelor to be precise.”

He turned back, watching the rain fall down, gathering some more courage for the rest he needed to say.

“A few years ago, back in Paris, there was someone, a woman, like your age. I don’t know why, but back then I thought it could work out, but to make a long story short, she quickly lost interest, finding another higher employed manager.”

“Did you fall in love with her? The girl?”

“No,” Randall hadn’t found the time back then to fall for the girl, because it was over before it really had started. She had slept with him two times, before realizing he was no use to her and her intentions to climb the career ladder quicker as the others. “And to make it clear, I don’t think your intentions are anything like this. But I fear you will lose interest soon, when you find out who this Randall Brown really is.”

Bel turned in her seat, reaching over, nudging her hand into his, what made him look at their hands first and then at her with wide almost painful looking eyes. She couldn’t know it remembered him about a scene in a cafe with Lix, short before he had found out about Sofia, back when there was still hope.

“I think I know you very well by now, maybe not every aspect, but… Randall, we work together, and we shared some private conversations in the last few months. And even it not shines a good light on me, but I was involved with men I knew not even half of what I know about you,” she then took her hand away again. “If you want guarantees, I can’t give you any, because what guarantees could you give me? Life is not based on guarantees, Randall.”

After that Bel decided to gaze into the rain or into her lap where her hands rested, her right hand feeling around the palm of the other. It seemed a lot of effort already, before they had even started.

“I get you home,” she heard him say after a minute, and she guessed he would think about a good, polite explanation why they didn’t have any chance on the way.

For a silly reason, she felt her heart ache more and more while they came closer to her home, and despite the desperate try to will the lump in her throat away, Bel heard herself gasp and a sob escaped her.

Randall, stopping the car in the second row in front of her building, turned alarmed toward her finding her brush away a tear, “What is it?”

“I am sorry,” embarrassed, she quickly reached into her purse, to pull out a handkerchief to dab away her tears. “Listen, save yourself the words, I understand. Let’s just do as if this never happened, okay?” fiddling with the handle, Bel was so emotional and the tears blurring her sight, that she had trouble opening the door. When she finally had, the rain immediately soaked her clothes.

“Bel, wait!” Randall had quickly reached for an umbrella that always laid in the back, jumping out of the car, the same moment she did. While following her down the way to the main door, he had trouble opening the umbrella, and when he finally had caught up to her, they were both soaked. “What was that for? Why are you crying and why are you running away?”

They stood by the door, Bel against the glass, Randall in front of her, holding her arm, afraid she would run away again, the umbrella blocking out the pouring rain.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, Randall,” she brushed the rain from her face, “As said, we can do as if nothing of it had happened. There is no reason you have to put so much effort into telling me why it will not work between you and me,” she turned around in his loosening grip, searching her keys. “But let me tell you one last thing; the next time when someone shows interest in you, you better put your effort into believing her and something called confidence, instead throwing everything of it into doubt and rejection.”

“You are wrong!” he reached for her arm again, not letting her go inside. “It wasn’t my intention of telling you why it will not work.”

Unnerved she turned toward him, seeing that his wet hair started to curl slightly, “What is it then you wanted?”

He leaned closer, the umbrella handle between them, “I'd wanted to ask you a question, when I am honest.” 

“What… what question?”

“If I may kiss you?”

She swallowed, needing a few seconds and a glance of his toward her lips, to grasp the question. 

Giving him a nervous smile, nodding quickly, the answer only could be, “Yes.” 

When she would have thought about it a few months ago, or the day she had met Randall the very first time, she would have found it absurd. Old School. Asking to kiss the woman, when it was so clear to read in her eyes that she wanted this from him, not only since now. She surely would have said something flippant, but only because deep inside she knew it was the right thing to do.

And now, she thought how respectful it was, Randall was, and that no one ever had asked her, not like he had done. Men like Randall Brown didn’t exist anymore. Most were probably married, dead or gay, and so one could title Randall a relict, but in this moment, right before he reached out to her, gently touching her cheeks, he was everything but a relict. He was the most astonishing man, Bel ever had came by.

He leaned down to her, cupping her face, not blinking once, as he was afraid she would vanish if he would. He felt his heart accelerate. It had been a while since he had kissed a woman for the first time.

The kiss was at first nothing more than a gentle peck on the lips, Randall’s lips closing over Bel’s soft and warm. Afraid to be to urgent, afraid to scare her away. 

When he felt her lean in slightly, he dared to part his lips just as far so he could catch her upper lip between his lips, pulling her half an inch in.

They felt the heat of the other radiate around each other, felt the warmth of the skin that touched, and Bel found the courage to reach for his arms and elbows, her eyes closed, a soft hum escaping her. 

Her legs suddenly felt all wobbly, and her heart was beating now in her everywhere in her body, and there was a chance that this were those butterflies, striking up a cheerful song, everybody was talking about all the time, and she had felt while dancing with him

She didn’t know what made her do it, but the moment she touched his arm, she found herself lean in more, and her mouth opened up a bit and her tongue sneaked out, licking his upper lip. It was a mere touch. Nothing too daring.

Randall stopped in his motions, but didn’t break away, when he felt her react so clear to his kiss. Sending him an invitation, he was allowed to take or to refuse, she wouldn’t be mad, probably disappointed, but not mad. He knew he was probably one of the modest man in town, all shy and reserved, and so unsure of himself and his affect on woman — which was, so far as he thought, non-existent. 

Yet, her he was kissing this beautiful woman, who didn’t back away, instead was about to initiate the next step.

It needed her a second lick, till he she felt him sigh against her lips, meeting her tongue with his. Also shy as he was. For a moment she was about to believe Randall never had kissed a girl before, what was nonsense when she thought about him and Lix.

Bel was glad, he still held her by her face, not embraced her like one would do, because that would have opened up a wall in her, making her want more and more — not that she didn’t want it already. 

Randall was in control of the kiss, he might didn’t know but he was, and Bel enjoyed it, didn’t battle over the upper hand. She knew herself, she always wanted to be in control some sort, because if she wasn’t men used to keep her down, and that was one thing she learned from her job. Never let a man have a hand over you.

Now it was all different, she let him kiss her, and he let her kiss her and so it came to her that in the end it hadn’t to be always about who wins, who is in charge. That, in fact, it was about equality. Randall gave her this. With a simple, stupid kiss.

He tasted like coffee, and his aftershave, even a day old, that mixed up with his personal scent, made the experience perfect. He kissed her in the open room of the street, and she couldn’t care less about people who passed by, also no one did, as she was sure, Randall would have broken away, if one would come by.

So he stayed, kissed her, licked her tongue, her lips, kissed and hummed, tasting some soda she had earlier, and her sweet perfume made him believe he was standing in a garden and not a dark, dirty street of London.  

The kiss lasted only a few seconds, before Randall let go of her again, his hands still on her cheek, his mouth close to hers. He needed a moment to compose himself again, to watch out for her too, that she was able to stand on her own feet.

Her eyes flew open again, and a shy smile reached him. Bel placed one hand over his, taking his hands away from her face, holding them close to her chest, “Do you want to come upstairs?”

“Bel-”

“-I don’t mean it like that. We don’t…,” she felt stupid now, shy, something she never had been before.

“It is better when I go now,” he smiled gently, brushing his hand over hers. He could read the confusing in her eyes, the disappointment.

“Yes, of course,” she broke the eye contact, “It was stupid to say, I suggested something, I not wanted and now you think wrong of me.”

“I would love to come upstairs,” he then began, and her eyes came back to him, all wide and surprised. “It’s not that I don’t want, I want, but this is not the moment.”

It was hard to admit, “I don’t understand.”

“It was an eventful evening, and we are both high from it and from the kiss,” he smirked over the fresh memory. “But I want you to sleep a night or two over it.”

“I don’t have to sleep a night over it.”

“Yes, you have. Even if you think, you don’t have to, I want you to. To think about this. If you really want this.”

“Randall… .”

“You know why I want you to think about it, and don’t tell me you don’t care, because I will believe you, but society will care, and I not want you to regret this,” he brought her hands to his lips for a quick kiss. “Foremost I not want you to be hurt.”

“Have you thought about it?”

He laughed, “You might will not believe me, as I believe that you have certain expectations of me and a certain picture of me in your head — in the end I know how I appear —, no I don’t have thought about it. I’ve not even thought about kissing you, ten seconds before I did. There are things you can’t plan.”

Bel could name him quite a few people who could, and that made again clear why he was so special. A smile spread across her face, and one hand reached for his cheek, caressing over it, “I’ve never met a man like you before.”

“Is this a good or a bad thing?”

She went on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “It’s quite a good thing, so far I can see. Goodnight, Randall.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have already 20 chapters in this story, and we are not even close to the end.. god, how did this happen. 30 chapters maybe?! Big chance it will. As I start a new job in April, I am working almost non stop on this one hoping to finish it up till the end of the month, and as I have written quite a lot I think I can do that. 90 k word I am coming!


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days after their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of filler because I couldn't go straight to the next chapters. But I think so it goes sometimes how I describe it in this chapters.

It got late till Bel found finally sleep, as she was too binged up and full of butterflies and her feelings that didn’t know how to settle into calmness again.

Had this really happened? Had she really told Randall Brown about her feelings? That he had been on her mind way too often and had he really driven her home, had followed her through the rain, to ask her if he was allowed to kiss her?

She had stood in her bathroom, her tongue licking over her lower lip, there were Randall’s lips had laid not long ago.

His tongue in her mouth, his hands holding her face, little gasps and deep hums — she found herself smiling like an idiot lost in the memory.

“God, stop behaving like a sixteen-year-old, Bel!” she scolded herself, but it was hard to wipe the grin off her face. She was just too happy. He had kissed her, passionately and it had felt so wonderful, and Bel felt like flying.

After all this time, this one kiss seemed to be the opener for more, and indeed, when she had asked him to come upstairs, she had meant it. Hadn’t they waited long enough?

Randall was right, he was carrying and wanted to prevent them both from hurt feelings and disappointment — in the end, he was a very careful person. She agreed with him; they shouldn’t go lightly into this.

What made her think of how it would go on. How would it be the next day, when they would meet in the office? Would they talk about it? Surely they would, but when? Should she ask him for a word right in the morning, or would that look like pushing?

No, she should wait for him to make the first move, shouldn’t she? God, she was so confused and overwhelmed.

Usually, she wasn’t so helpless with it, but normally, she wasn’t so … so in love? Was she in love? No, that couldn’t be. Love was such a meaningful word, and this was all so new.

A crush, a huge crush, that what it was. A promising one. If Randall had one too?

 

Randall’s heart didn’t stop beating hard for two more hours. And when he had stepped out of the shower, he still wasn’t sure if the kiss really had happened or if it had been only his imagination.

No, he had kissed her, and before that Bel Rowley, the girl he drove home almost every night, had told him, she was fond of him. Had promising feelings, and for a moment, he was overrun by his emotions that he needed to sit down on the bed.

“Oh, god, Randall, what did you do?” he rubbed over his face vigorously, ruffling his wet hair. “How stupid of you.”

He couldn’t imagine that Bel would be ever interested in him long enough, to develop real feelings for him, beyond the little crush she probably only had because he had danced with her. Sometimes closeness made people assume the wrong things.

Then he thought about her standing in the staircase, following him, urging him to speak up. The day of the dinner party already 24 hours old. Wouldn’t she have realized it by then, if it had been an errancy of her feeling by that time?

She had been so lost and overwhelmed in the car. Running away from him even when she thought he would tell her a no.

Maybe it was true, and Bel Rowley liked him that much. Because he liked her that much and if he would have been someone else, he had taken her to bed without second thoughts.

It would have been a mistake; there he was sure and, therefore, glad he hadn't given into his primal urges. He wanted this to happen, wanted it to fold by itself. They would know when was the time to take the next step, at least, he hoped they would know and most of all he hoped Bel would want him the same the next day.

Yes, the next day was one for surprises and one for nervous behavings.

 

After reaching the office at eight-thirty, Bel went to get some more coffee, finding Hector by the machine.

“Bel!” he cheered, and she wondered why he was so early in the office.

“Hector? Since when do you show up so early in the office?” not that it was an issue, there was no need for him to be there that early.

“Since weeks, Bel,” he answered almost peeved but gave her a gentle smile. “Since the one time I let you down, remember?”

“Oh,” she hadn’t noticed. “Wow, you must have some serious guilty feels.”

“Great, if I had known you didn’t even notice my being here that early, I would have saved myself the effort,” for that she bumped with her arm against him. “Well, okay, I wasn’t out for the praise. Just showing I can do better.”

“I know, I noticed,” she rolled her eyes, “sometimes.”

He smirked at her, taking her in, “You look good by the way. You are glowing, do you know that?”

“Glowing?” she peered alarmed over the edge of her coffee cup. “Like what? A lightbulb?”

“No!” Hector huffed amused. “It was a compliment, dear Lord. You are glowing.”

It was the moment Randall joint them, needing a cup of coffee himself, and before he realized he wasn’t the only one, Hector turned toward his boss.

“Ah, good morning Mister Brown. What do you think?”

In Bel’s eyes, Randall seemed to startle awake, slight rims under his eyes, what indicated that she hadn’t been the only one laying awake over the happenings the other night, “Good morning. What do I think about what? Is there a crisis in the middle east I’ve missed?”

Bel smirked, biting her lips. She never had noticed that Randall tended to be bold when tired.

“No, not that I know. I am sure Mister Lyon would have called us all in tonight if it would have been so,” Hector said, giving Bel a look as if to ask her what the matter was with him. “I just complimented -,” Hector stopped, finally realizing who he was talking to. “Oh, never mind. I forgot for a moment who I was talking to,” he gave him an excusing smile, turned then to Bel and simplyrepeated what he had said before, “Glowing. You look happy. That’s all I meant.”

With that, Hector toddled off to his office and left Randall and Bel behind.

Deep red in the face, Bel gave Randall a nervous smile, who leaned slightly forward, one hand on the little desk the coffee cups stood, his mouth about to say something, but he didn’t get the chance when Isaac approached them.

“Good morning!” he greeted them with his usual cheerfulness, and Randall glared at him, asking himself why the hell they were all that early in the office.

“Mister Wengrow,” Randall’s praying look wandered over the young man. “Shouldn’t you work on one of your sketches?”

“Uhm”, irritated, Isaac fumbled with one of the cups. “Yes, but I just … I wanted some coffee first. It’s only eight thirty-five and …”

Bel came to his rescue, “It’s fine Isaac, Mister Brown is making a joke. Get your coffee and then start working.”

“Yes,” his eyes darting nervously between him and her, shuffling then more toward Bel, grabbed his coffee and left again. “Mister Brown, making jokes, I can’t believe that,” was all they heard him mumble from the other room, and they shared a smile.

Randall looked at Bel, and had to agree with Hector; she was glowing. Tired, but glowing and happy. Was he the reason? “I haven’t said thank you yet, have I?”

“What for?” she shook her head in confusion.

“Have you said something to Isaac?” it was Lix, who always had the incredible talent to show up out of nowhere at the most impossible times, approaching Randall. “The boy is talking nonsense. About you making jokes.”

Randall rose an eyebrow at Lix, and he could see his old flame was well aware of the sarcastic smirk on his lips, “Jokes?” he frowned but kept the grin. “I don’t do jokes, Miss Storm. You know that,” and then turned toward Bel. “Don’t I?"

"You once said, only twice a year," she remembered and gave it a shy smile, more toward Lix as him.

"Exactly," he made a smacking sound and then huffed. " Oh, and before I forget the word I was looking for was; glowing.”

“Glowing?” Lix sipped from the coffee, only to drag from her cigarette afterwards, not having heard Hector's talk.

“Yes,” he dwelled with his looks on Bel for a second longer, “glowing. A beautiful word, isn't it?” he raised one eyebrow with the tiniest smile on his lips, he offered both, before vanishing toward his office.

Lix turned to Bel, considering her for the longest time, so long that Bel was worried, she could read her innermost and all about Randall and what had happened between them, “If I wouldn't know better, I'd say he is drunk.”

Helplessly Bel slowly raised her arms and then shrugged, “As I said, what did they sent us?” only to vanish with an innocent look.

Lix would be the first to find out; there was no question about it.

 

After that and the morning conference, Bel found herself in her office, grinning at the typewriter. If that hadn’t been a good sign, then she couldn’t say what would be a good sign. She was just about to start typing when Freddie, Hector and Lix stormed into her office.

“You won’t believe what just happened!” Hector called out.

“The parliament just announced that they have decided to send troops down to Jordan, to help King Hussein against the pressure they get from Iraq,” Freddie sputtered on, not willing to let Hector bring the news to her.

“What?” Bel jumped up from her seat. “Get McCain in here, as political adviser! Get me someone from the press office, get me the prime minister himself!” she passed all three, who followed her while she commanded further instructions, pacing over to Randall. “Randall!” she entered without knocking, finding him doing his tie, and looking surprised at the crowd in his room.

“Oh, God, let me guess, Khrushchev has dropped the bomb?”

“Not exactly,” Bel waved with her hands.

“I have McCain on the phone,” Isaac came in too, “he wants to speak to someone.”

Randall thought about getting a bigger office, when Lix turned to the young man, "Aren’t you someone?”

“Someone important,” he answered flabbergast and Hector huffed, and announced he would take care of it.

“Thank you.” Bel turned back to Randall, “The parliament has just released a press report that they will send British troops down to Jordan.”

“We have to cover that!” Randall stepped forward, having finished his tie. “Get someone from there on the phone, Lix! And we have McCain?”

“I think so,” Bel nodded and returned with him and the others back to the newsroom. “Freddie?”

Freddie knew what she wanted from him. His opinion on how to proceed with the interview, “There will be surely a press conference, we should go there. Till we get them into the studio, they had too much time to think about stupid answers.”

“Good,” Randall’s fatigue was blown away, and he was back on track, “Get Mister Wengrow, a camera and get ready.”

“Yes,” Freddie nodded and vanished down the floor, leaving Bel and Randall alone.

“This is big,” Bel watched the others run around in the newsroom, trying to find out if she had missed anything.

“It is, I think we have thought of everything so far,” Randall nibbled at his thumb, glancing at Bel, who was so absorbed in the topic, not noticing. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Bel looked at him, frowning for a second then it hit her, “Oh. I… I wanted to speak to you too.”

He gave her a shy smile, “Maybe afterwards?”

“Afterwards, yes,” she smiled back at him, and was close to shoving him back into his office, but Hector came back, telling them about McCain, who would come in as soon as possible.

And with that the day went by in a hectic daze and neither Bel nor Randall found time to take a break, to breathe or to talk to each other.

 

When evening came, Bel found herself in the conference room, her head leaning against the blackboard, totally exhausted. They had done excellent work that day, but it had cost her everything. The rest of the crew felt the same.

Lix hung in Isaacs stool, who was still busy down in the studio. Hector flopped down into another chair close to Bel. Randall and Freddie sat across the room, either of them on one corner of the desk.

“I need a drink,” Lix muttered, her eyes closed, even too tired to smoke. “Or two.”

“Me too,” Hector agreed, catching Bel’s warning looks. “One drink, Bel!”

“I need my bed,” was her answer, and Lix started to giggle. “What are you laughing at?”

“A bed? You are young; you should come with us,” she explained.

“Yeah, I know, but I hadn’t much sleep last night, okay,” Bel explained unnerved without being able to tell them a big lie. “I just need my bed.”

“Oh, have you been dating, then?” Hector rolled his chair over to her, grinning mischievously. “Don’t tell me you are still dating this softy of a man, you told me about a bit ago? Who was he, the brother of?”

“Of one of my friends, Hector,” Bel turned and gave him a gentle slap on the back of his head, catching Randall’s amused look. “And no, I don’t date that softy anymore.”

“Who you date then?” he wanted to know, and Bel hesitated a bit too long before she answered, “I don't date.”

Lix and Hector literally chanted at the same time “Liar!” Then looked with a cheerful face at each other and would have shaken hands when they wouldn't have been parted a few meters.

“You both are insufferable, “Bel groaned not willing to deepen the conversation. By now She was so tired she was afraid of making a mistake and tell them too much about last night. Lix was too smart and Hector too curious and that was a dangerous mix.

“Who you date then?” Hector could have been dead; he wouldn’t have stopped asking.

“Hector, stop it! In what have you turned? A gabbling houseman, maybe?” Bel also became cheeky when tired, knowing Hector could take it. They had a past, so she knew what she was allowed to say or not.

“That’s what marriage does,” he said, not even trying to tell her she was wrong. He sighed, looking as if he was about to give up, but his curiosity was way too overpowering. “Come with us. Tell us about your date.”

“Mister Madden,” Randall said from his corner, giving him a warning look. “I think Miss Rowley made clear; she doesn’t want to talk about it. Ever heard of respecting such wish?”

“That’s true,” Hector huffed, and stood up, turned to Bel and bowed slightly. “I am sorry. Come with us anyway? I promise not to ask.”

Bel bowed back to him, turning down the offer, “Next time. For today, I want to go home.”

“What a pity, but,” Hector turned to Lix holding out a hand to her, “Miss Storm will you give me the honour of your company this evening?”

“Oh, darling,” she grinned at him and let him take her hand to pull her up from the chair, “How could I resist such charming offer. Freddie?”

“No, Camille is waiting. Go you two,” he waved at them, and they both said their goodbyes and then left but not without Bel calling after them, that they shouldn’t overdo it.

That left Freddie, Randall and Bel, and aside Bel was truly tired, she hoped for Freddies leaving, so she had a quiet moment with Randall. Not for talking, they both were too exhausted and tomorrow was a hard day again — they needed sleep, but at least for a moment of comfort. Reconnecting with the feelings from the night before.

“That was good work today, Mister Lyon,” Randall turned to Freddie wanting the same. “Tell your wife; I am sorry we have held you here for so long today.”

“Thank you, and don’t worry, as long as I bring ice cream, everything will be fine,” he giggled, and then turned to Bel. “So you're going home? I can drive you.”

Bel’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t thought Freddie would offer it, but as he also lived in the same direction, and it was the one time in the year he was leaving at the same time as her, it was natural he asked, “Ahm, I-”

“Come on,” he grinned. “That’s what we have been talking about lately, haven’t we? I am sure Mister Brown doesn’t mind when I drive you once in a while.”

Randall nodded at him, making a dismissive gesture. What other option he had? “Of course not,” he glanced at Bel and saw her disappointment, hiding his own. “You both go, I turn off the lights and tell Mister Wengrow it’s time to go home. I'll see you all tomorrow.”

“Great,” Freddie hopped from the desk and walked over to Bel, grabbing her arm suddenly, before pulling her with him. “But we have to stop, to buy ice cream!”

Whisked away by her friend, Bel was only able to turn around one short moment looking at Randall, who looked at her with sad eyes, but a gentle smile. Feeling the urge to say something, she opened her mouth, but Freddie was too quick for her and had pulled her out of the room before she was able to say anything, and so it was the last she saw of Randall that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update... soon... :D!


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The busy workday seems to be against Randall and Bel, but in the end Bel finds a way, but the way Randall reacts...is a surprise in all ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to portrait how hard it is to come back together, when time is against someone. When fears linger around the corner all the time, and secrets have to be secrets.  
> Then I found myself writing a bit more Randall insight, and that's usually my favourite parts to write. That's the moments I explore this character. I never know how it will go, I pick up ideas, things I read from others about him, and my personal headcanons, and with each word I write I dig deeper.

The next morning Bel came in late, because the bus had a delay and it was short before nine when the door of the lift opened, and she ran into Randall who looked at her with wide open eyes. 

He hadn’t expected to see her there, and Bel hadn’t expected to see him — not like this, coat on, hat on his head and his briefcase in hand. He was about to leave.

“Randall.” “Bel.”

Frowning at him, she saw the others, in the distance, already gathering for the nine-o’clock conference, “Where are you going?”

“I am at the BBC the whole day,” he explained quickly, one hand at the elevator door so that it wouldn’t close again. “I am sorry, I forgot to tell you yesterday, and in the morning, I waited…”

“Yes, the bus was late, I couldn’t know. I am sorry.”

Hectically they both shared glances, both having to be somewhere, at different places and only wanted to be at a single location. Together.

“Some contracts are up again,” Randall looked down the corridor, checking if someone was there, before reaching for her hand with his fingers. Shy, nothing too daring, only a quick touch. Reassurance. “I won’t be back until the late afternoon. We'll probably won't see each other today.”

Bel smiled over the contact, holding two of his fingers with her little one, “It’s okay, I know it’s important.”

Stepping into the elevator, he let go of her, reluctant, “How about tomorrow, we could talk about it all. We find a moment. Yes?”

She was close to stepping back into the cabin, to at least spent a little time with him, but Hector called her name, urging her to come. 

“Tomorrow,” she whispered, and Randall gave her a quick nod, repeating the word and hoped Bel saw how he longed for her. Then the doors went shut.

The only thing she could do was stand there, till Isaac showed up behind her, asking if everything was okay. 

“In two years, no one of you were ever on time for this conference,” Bel ranted at him, “It had to be this day, you all came to a better understanding of time, hadn’t it?

“Uhm, uhm,” Isaac stumbled back, and Bel thought for a second she had to reach out to prevent him from falling.

“Never mind, Isaac,” she took a deep breath. “Forget about it; it wasn’t meant like this. Rough day already.”

“Okay, good, I mean not good,” he fiddled with his fingers and then ran back to the others, and Bel called out she would be there in a minute, getting her coat off first.

It would be a long day — without Randall. 

 

Randall had completely forgotten he had to be at the BBC. Only when he had checked his schedule the day before, a minute before leaving home and ten minutes after Freddie had dragged Bel away, he had remembered. 

In the morning he had glanced at the clock every five minutes, waiting for Bel to arrive and when he was already five minutes late, he decided he couldn't wait any longer and finally met her by the lift. 

He hated being late, but it was worth it in the end. He wouldn't have been able to go through the day without seeing or talking to her at all.

It had hurt seeing her been taken away by Freddie the night before. It would have hurt with anyone, but stung a little more as it was him. 

Randall never had been the jealous kind; he was a trusting nature. One with self-esteem issues. He always had fought to a specific kind of level before he usually decided to let go  —   of women, let it be understood. His job was something else. 

Not that he had to fight a lot in his life for a woman. He was usually well aware when it was useful and when not. Bel had made a well-observed remark about him better not putting everything into doubt and rejection but into confidence. 

When he was young, he never had doubts in his looks, but he wasn't able to hold onto a woman because he was sure he would wreck it. 

He couldn't trust himself, and was always sure he never could put a woman first because he had to learn to work twice as hard from the very beginning.

At some point in his life, there was all work, and no time or a place for a real relationship. Not that he had bothered often. Randall Brown was better on his own, at least, that was what he used to think.

His parents too poor for sending him to college, and so he worked his way up from the working class, with long hours as an intern and another job as paper man to pay the rent and to fill his stomach. Every spare minute he wasn’t working, he invested into reading. Politics. Journalism. Classic belletristic. Psychology. 

He knew he needed to be just a tad smarter than anyone else, and then maybe, with a bit of luck and stubbornness, he had a chance. 

And so the years went by, and women came and left again. Not many, but the one he had, always complaint about him having the nose more often in a book or before a typewriter instead with them. Randall never defended himself or explained, kept quiet and watched them all leave — when he wasn't too busy working. 

Then he went down to Spain, the civil war, and met Lix. She could have had everyone. She was beautiful, with an aura that made him stop reading for ten seconds and from there on everything changed. 

Lix was clever, had more in her female bones as any man he had ever met and courage for three, let alone her modern standards. He was in love with her the moment she slapped one of the others after he had tried to touch her bottom. 

First, she had slapped him and then had given him a speech about politics and the problems that had caused the civil war. Randall had been in awe, sitting in a corner, writing about the day. 

She could handle a gun as she could handle the clique of men who hadn't seen a woman for weeks. And she could handle him. Never criticising him for reading or writing -- for working so hard. 

And one evening, after they had a rough day behind them, and had drunk a bit too much, she had grabbed his hand and had pulled him into her room. Lix Storm was a woman who used to take what she wanted, and she had seen his looks, the way he stared at her. 

“I know you think about this from the first moment, I can see it in your eyes,” she had kissed him hard.

“So I am not better as the others, then,” he had answered letting her place his hands onto her bottom.

“They want me, you adore me,” she had grinned, kissing his whiskey stained lips. “That’s why I want you.”

They had fallen both in love in that time, every one of them in their own way. Their relationship had been doomed before Sofia was conceived, Randall had come to that conclusion years later. War was no place for two people like Lix and him to fall in love; it was a false reality. 

What would they do after leaving Spain? Leaving one political hot spot, to do what? Live in a house in London, with a backyard, Randall mowing the lawn, and Lix cooking the dinner? Two kids, one dog and every Wednesday there would be games evening with the neighbours? 

The reality of the world was not their reality, and they knew it. And when Lix got pregnant, they both knew they couldn’t give into society standards, and they both did what they had to do at that time. What they thought was the best to do. 

In his mind cage, he had wrecked it again. He had ruined it from the very beginning, and it would have been okay for Lix because she was one for doing a damage too, but with Sofia, the game changed. For him, it was his fault, everything of it.

Seeing Freddie, the man Bel had loved so much, take her away, was like a reminder, that he maybe never was able to hold a woman. Not because he couldn’t, but because he was afraid of it. 

The fear tried to tame him and tried to push him into a path he never had cared not taking. 

After all those years, he finally had started to care, and deep inside his heart he knew he wanted to be with Bel. Randall wanted to have a fair chance, but now he was free, from the pressure of working and free from his feelings for Lix, it seemed it was Bel who wasn’t free at all. 

Every minute she spent with the boy, might be the moment she would decide, she wasn’t ready for a new relationship. And Randall wasn’t sure if he had the patience to watch her getting a clear mind over it. Not when his heart seemed already so taken by her. He would burn out on the inside, and he wasn’t able to take that once again. 

Randall would do anything to find some time the next day to speak to her about it. About his worries, and about her possible worries, her plans, her ideas, her motivations. No rash decisions.

 

 

The only real good thing that happened to Bel was when her phone rang in the evening, and one of her friends were on the line, complaining about the kids being sick, and, therefore, she couldn’t go into this new play with her husband as planned. 

So the question was if Bel wanted to have the tickets. It was some sort of screwball comedy, nothing too Shakespeare but it had good reviews when it had played in New York. 

Bel thought about it for second and decided it was maybe what she needed, to ask Randall for a second date the next day. It could be a good motivation. The date already set, the next day, but she knew Randall a bit by now. Such pressure might be what he needed, to jump into the unknown. 

She had thought about his phrasing “to talk about it all”, and with Randall, such words were best to take literally. He wanted to talk about it instead of just doing it, what was all right for her at some point, but they were talking way too long already, and she was sure he had similar fears as her and was certain they only could overcome them when they acted. 

They needed to jump, cross the street and hope it would turn out okay, instead of spreading out all the fears, worries and problems that they might had to face, in front of them.

With those theater tickets, she thought it would work. Just a lovely evening. Him and her, and then a coffee somewhere, a little talk. To see how it worked with them, now they knew they were attracted to each other.

“I’ll take them,” Bel said excited, only saying she would ask a friend in the office, and her friend told her, her husband would drop them by in the morning at the office.  

So the next day came, and Bel became excited and nervous the moment she spotted Randall. It was a Friday after all when something would happen to hinder them from talking; they wouldn’t be able to do it before Monday. It would be a very long weekend, and Bel wanted to prevent herself from such horror.

Gladly at ten the reception called her that the tickets had arrived, and so she went to get them, and after that, she went right toward Randall’s office, before her courage would leave her. 

They hadn’t talked much in the morning. A shy smile and a good morning and then they had to settle into the usual morning business.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling even longer, she knocked on his door and then stepped in. Gladly he wasn’t on the phone or in talk with someone of the others. Only sat at his desk, writing something.

When he saw her, she could see his eyes light up, while he placed the pen away. She had surprised him; he hadn’t thought of her to show up just like that. Without notification, that she saw in the startled expression in his eyes.

‘I can’t give you any guarantees,’ she heard herself say back in the car. 

Nervously she pressed the tickets against her chest, feeling her heart suddenly hammer hard and fast, “Do you have a minute?”

“I have,” he muttered, his lips dry and telling himself he should better calm down, or he would make a fool out of him. “Something happened?”

“No, not with the show,” she quickly answered. 

Out of the blue, she felt helpless and hoped Randall would see it and come to her side, tell her that it was okay, that nothing had changed since he had kissed her, but he only kept sitting there, staring at her and she didn’t know what it had to mean. Something good, something bad? “I make it quick; I have some tickets from a friend. For a play. Some screwball comedy, I think. She can'T go, and she gave them to me, and I wanted to ask you if… if you would like to go?”

Bel held the tickets between two of her fingers, holding them up, as if they were a fabulous price, and smiled nervously at him.

Randall’s eyes darted between her and the tickets. It had been two days now since he had kissed her and not one minute he hadn’t thought about her and that kiss, and now the only thing he could do was stare at her and those damn theater tickets and think of all the things that could go wrong. 

That was the difference between him and Bel. He had wanted to talk, and she grasped at an opportunity without worries, running him over. He was baffled and the only thing he was able to say was, “Let me check my calendar.” His hand reaching forward, but she stopped him.

“It’s tonight,” it was more an excuse by now. Her excitement had left her bit by bit when he hadn’t reacted the way she had hoped for. “Short notice I know, but, I thought… I don’t know what I thought actually.”

Randall felt as if he had stepped into a trap of his own mind. He saw in Bel’s posture and her eyes that the excitement and the curious happiness she had stepped into his office with, was now about to vanish because he wasn’t able to act the way he wanted to act, “We can consider that.”

“We can cons-,” that was too much for her. “Never mind. I thought it was a good idea, but obviously not. You are no one for theater, I understand. Well, get back to me in case you are ever ready,” she snapped and turned on her heels to leave his office with verve. The door going shut and with the loud band, Randall snapped out of his state of shock.

“We can consider it?” he whispered, rolling his eyes. “You are. An idiot!”

With that, Randall lunged out of his chair, and toward his door, ripping it open, but Bel was nowhere to be seen.  He knew it was better not to wait too long and to get the mistake out of the world, and so he paced down the floor to her office. 

Which was empty, and he looked around helplessly. All the verve in his bones and the buzzing in his body and he didn't know what to do with it now. 

He felt the emotions, the tenseness easing away, and with that the courage, and suddenly he panicked because he knew he had to tell Bel that he so wanted to go with her to the play. 

Then he saw the paper bin aside her desk, salient on top of other papers, the entry cards for the play. She must have thrown them away in her disappointment. 

Reaching for them, he smiled down at them. He had read about the show a while ago, had heard it was a good production, but he was no one for going alone, and truly no one for going with a woman -- till he had met Bel. 

Hearing her voice outside in the corridor, he snapped back into action, shoving the cards into the inside of his jacket. He stepped outside, seeing her walk up to her office, in a heated argumentation with Hector. 

Bel saw him in the corner of her eyes emerge from her room and stumbled for a moment over her words. Hector didn’t realize and pushed on with the topic, hands whirling, and she couldn’t decide for a moment who to give her attention to or if she should excuse herself to the ladies.

Randall could see her dilemma, her thoughts, and walked stout up to her, reaching for her arm, gently, “Miss Rowley, a word.” He pulled her away from Hector ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry Mister Brown, but I was here first,” Hector insisted. It must have been an important conversation for him, Randal noted, he usually didn’t make demands like that in front of him.

“I am very sorry,” Randall gave him one of his rare smiles, before glancing at Bel for a second. Seeing she was overrun by the moment. ‘Good’, he thought, “It will be just a moment, I promise,” he pointed at Hector’s left wrist. “Stop the time, Mister Madden, one minute, and Miss Rowley will be all yours again.”

For a second Hector wondered what was going on. Not that Randall’s behaviour ever hadn’t occurred odd to him, but this time, there was something else, something he couldn’t grasp. As it was Hector, he shrugged it off, and only huffed in displease. There was not much he could do, he thought and looked down at his watch.

“Good,” Randall said, and with one hand he shoved Bel into her office, with the other, he shut the door, keeping his hand on the handle to prevent anyone from entering.

“What is going on?” Bel finally found words again, seeing him close the door, seeking his eyes, finding it strange and feeling a warmth spread through her belly. Why was that? Shouldn’t she still be mad and hurt?

Randall stepped up close to her and made her step back against the door. There was not much room between them left, and he knew what he wanted to do and knew what he wouldn’t do, “I really would like to kiss you right now, because that’s everything I can think of since three days.”

“But-”

He prevented her from talking, with a finger on his lips, checking the watch on his wrist before placing the hand back against the door, “I’ve never imagined you would show up in my office, with tickets for a play, telling me you want a second evening with me. I was sure you would come to senses, would tell me I am just an old sod, only good for a drive, not enough for more.

“You would tell me, how wrong you were, how disappointing I am for you. And then you stand in my office and inform me about the contrary. How should I have reacted?” again Randall glanced down his watch. “30 seconds left, so quick! I’d love to go with you,” he reached into his pockets giving her the cards back, “Are you sure you want this? Because I want it. Try this, with you. Explore it. I mean it earnest, I am no Bill Kendall, please remember this!”

He almost lingered too close to her lips; it was almost too alluring to kiss her, but it was the office, and he can’t kiss her in the office, not the way he wants. He would forget himself, would forget about Mister Madden, his duties and all his manners. He can’t do that; that’s why he didn’t.

“When I am honest, I didn’t need three days to know what I wanted,” Bel touched his cheek, smiling. Visibly relieved he had overcome his concerns. “I knew it in front of that door, but you were right, it was better to think about it for a bit, and so I did, and after another 12 hours I came to the conclusion it’s what I want. I simply hadn’t the backbone to just walk into your office telling you. Let alone all the unfortunate events, separating us. When I got the offer for the cards, I had found my opportunity to tell you.”

Randall smiled gently at her, “I am so sorry for my reaction. It was unforgivable,” again a glance down his watch. “Ah, we are overdue. Seven o’clock, tonight. I’ll pick you up.”

He almost dared to tell her he would be there at five, to have dinner with her somewhere, because one shouldn’t see a play with an empty stomach. But he knew it was all too fresh, and having dinner in public would mean, they might run into someone. 

A shared dinner was nothing he could explain away; it would be clear that it would mean something. Going together to a play was maybe all the same. Also, he wasn’t sure. 

Maybe the chance of seeing someone from the staff there was simply not given. Lix was no one for comedy on the stage. Mister Madden was more a man for a night club and Freddie didn’t even had a tux. And the rest, wouldn’t ‘waste’ their time in a two-hour play on a Friday evening.

With a smile Randall pulled her away from the door to rip it open, finding Hector in front of it, “Ah! Mister Madden, I am very sorry, I exceeded.” Quickly, he shoved himself between the door and Hector, pointing at the inside.

“I not really stopped the time, Mister Brown,” was all Hector commented, giving him a frown, before he stepped inside of Bel’s office.

“Typical Mister Madden,” Randall popped his head on last time into her office. “It explains why you are always so sharp of coming too late to your show.”

“I am never late!” Hector protested, realizing he was mocked by his Head of News.

Randall gave Bel a last smirk, “That was exactly what I said.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll noticed I write Randall now a bit more joyful, a bit sarcasm (?), the way he treats Hector, is witty. I think that's Randall when he is happy, then he comes out of his hole of grief, fear and being all restrain and restrict. I mean think about it. People start to act different when they are in love or have a crush. They have a spring in their feet/wake. Yes, he is wearing this suits, this glasses, is super correct, but he turns into a teasing little shit then ;D, but maybe without the huge grin someone would have. No Randall would grin in the office, in private yes, no in the office he would be have this sparkle in his eyes, this fine smiling, this hint. It's hard to write.
> 
> I also should explain, that Bill Kendal was Bel's possible lover in S2. I was certain Randall knew about that, but not about Hector who she was involved with in S1. As I need this "surprise" in later chapters, I dance around that a bit.


	21. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know where this second date will lead to, don't you? ;)

Randall showed up at her doorstep five minutes before seven, wearing a dark blue suit with a vest, a white shirt and a matching tie. As it was no opera, there was no tux needed, but he had chosen the one suit he used to unpack only for special occasions. Not that he had any in the last five years.

He rang the bell and Bel let him know she would be downstairs in a minute over the intercom, so he stepped back from the door and shuffled nervously around on the spot.

A date. He had a date with Bel Rowley. He was nervous, afraid, excited and close to fainting while his brain went through “what to say” “what to not say - work! “ and “everything that could go wrong” -  and that at the same time.

Luckily his mind went blank as an empty page when Bel stepped outside wearing a dark blue dress that shimmered in the beginning dusk. A short dark coat over her shoulders, to keep her warm. She had matched him without knowing -  he took it as a good sign.

“You look very lovely,” he stepped up to her, smiling down at her. He wasn't quite sure what to do. Kiss her? Shake her hand? Or better, just stand there and adore her all night long?

His eyes must have betrayed his confusion, as Bel made the decision and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. Not without both of them blushing.

 

“You look handsome yourself,” she shivered aside wearing her coat, and Randall quickly held out his arm so he could walk her to the car.

 

When they sat inside of it, it was as if the familiar surroundings helped them to relax around each other and over the occasion.

 

“I got so used to your car and our wonderful talks in here, it always feels a bit like coming home, “ Bel smiled down into her lab.

 

Randall couldn't take his eyes off her; she was just too beautiful to look at, and the glowing hadn't vanished one bit.

“Every time I drive alone,” he began. “I can't but think of those talks. Of you,” he watched her blush more and lowered his gaze. “I am babbling, I am sorry. I shouldn’t tell you, but I hadn’t a date for a long time.”

“If it helps, you did well so far,” she grinned.

“It helps, thank you. Ready?” he asked then, and when she nodded, he drove off to the theater. It was a silent drive. Not awkward. Pleasant and filled with anticipation and they both looked forward to a beautiful evening. Here and there they shared little glances and smiles, and when Randall reached a parking spot by the theater, he jumped out and opened the car for her.

They were on time, and with them, a lot of people and couples flocked toward the entrance. It was a Friday night; the people were happy about the upcoming weekend and excited for the play. No one giving any attention to the couple that stood aside the car, unsure how to approach the situation, and so Randall pushed all his worries aside, and held out his arm to her, and Bel slipped her arm through his, leaning against him.

In the lobby, Randall asked for her coat and his breath stopped once more, when she revealed that the dress had no sleeves and that the back neckline was showing off her bare back. It was the one dress she never had the chance to wear, the one, that had been unfitting for the dinner party, but fitting for a Friday night and a jolly play at the theater.

Other women wore similar dresses, but Randall had only eyes for her, and when he had given their coats away, he stepped up to her, placing a gentle hand on her back, at the edge of the hem, only his thumb deliberately touching her skin, to walk with her toward the theater hall. 

Together they found their seats and quickly after they had sat down, the light went out, and the performance started.

They had good seats, fifth row, in the middle, and they both relaxed into the moment, watching the actors and the plot with joy. People around them laughed, and it was good that they hadn’t spotted anyone who could know them.

Yet, neither Bel nor Randall laughed loud over the plot. Smiled and grinned, but both were too busy to be with the other. All their senses listening to the other, all concentration there, and so the plot passed by while they shared unsure glances.

Bel fiddled unintentionally with her purse and Randall watched her for a long while, before finally gathering some courage and reached out for her hand, linking her fingers with his.

From there on, the only thing he could feel was her hand in his, the play forgotten, and when the end came, the people started to applaud, and Bel leaned over whispering; “Do you mind when we go?”

Randall smirked, “Not at all.” And so they pushed their ways to the end of the row with giggling excuses and then Randall went to get her and his coat.

They had left the place, driving away, before the final curtain for the night had fallen. The drive home took twenty minutes, and when Randall had found a parking spot, Bel turned quickly toward him not wanting him to say something first.

“Randall, can I ask you for a favour?”

“You can ask me for everything,” he said.

“When I will ask you to come upstairs with me, please don’t say no,” again Bel blushed, knowing it was a daring question, but she had nothing in mind, only that she not wanted to say goodbye.

“I won’t,” Randall answered quickly, not wishing to let go of her either.

“So will you come upstairs? I could make us some tea,” she then asked with a smile and Randall answered with a nod and a bright smile. “I’d love to.”

Again, he opened the door for her, holding out his hand to help her outside, and pulled her toward him, holding her close by the waist, peering down at her. 

Bel’s hand landed on his chest, and they both would have kissed right there when not a car would have pulled up, and bathed them in the beam of the headlights.

Grabbing his hand, Bel tugged him with her, both their coats still in the car, and he gave it a chuckle, letting her whisk him away to the apartment entrance. 

Quickly she opened the door and led him upstairs to her door, where she, as always, needed a bit to open it. It was still jammed and every time she damned the landlord in her thoughts for not finally fixing it. Also, not this time, probably because she felt Randall stand close behind her, the fingertips of his right hand drawing little lines on her back. The faintest of touches and Bel shuttered strong under it.

“Sorry,” he whispered, taking his hand away, knowing she wouldn’t get the door open when he would go on.

Bel entered with a shy smile, pointing into the inside. She hadn’t cleaned up, a cardigan of her laid on the sofa and a few magazines here and there around. She hadn’t planned to ask Randall to come upstairs or had hoped for something that way. With everyone else she might wouldn’t have bothered, but with Randall, who she knew liked things in order, she blushed, turning around to him, “I am sorry, I didn’t expect company,” she took the cardigan from the sofa and fiddled with it, unsure where to place it.

“It’s fine,” Randall glanced around. He liked her place; it was so fitting for her. The walls were yellow, like the lamp in her office and he smirked over it. It wasn’t untidy, and he didn't feel uncomfortable, and so he turned to her, taking the cardigan out of her hands, to place it back over the sofa. “You have a nice place.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, watching him take her hands into his, and pulling her in. His hands sliding over her arms, to her waist, his greenish eyes peering down at her. It was all too fascinating with Randall, who had been reluctant and intimate at the same time at the door. 

She had sat in the theater, hoping for him to reach out to her hand. Had sensed his shyness and fear, and now he seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and it was not tea. “No tea?”

He smiled at her, brushing a strand of her behind her ear, “No tea.”

Lowering his head slightly, he waited for Bel to react. He not wanted to do anything she might not want or wanted to be too quick. For him it would have been enough, to hold her all night like this, in his arms, caressing the skin by her ear and neck.

Bel went up and captured his lips with a hum. Waiting for four days had been waiting way too long, and she had longed day and night for his lips on her mouth. For his hands on her body, and she knew she wanted more than just a single, breathtaking kiss that night. Flinging her hands around his neck, she pressed herself against his lean body, deepening the kiss and Randall opened his mouth for her, answering her desire with his own.

“Randall,” she whispered, gasping for air. Her hands reaching for the lapels of his jacket, shoving them down over his shoulders. The thick fabric flopped onto the ground, and then Randall flung his arms around her body again, kissing her again deep and passionate, one of his hands loosening the hair slide, so her long hair came down, the other sprawling over her back, his fingertips digging into her skin.

Bel moaned under his touches, her fingers working at the buttons of his vest blindly, while he held the back of her neck, and kissed her as if there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. 

When the vest was open, she placed her hands on his stomach, pushing him gently toward her bedroom and Randall understood what she wanted, and let her guide him backwards into the other room, which had no door.

On the way, he shoved down the vest, and Bel shoved down his braces, tugging at his shirt and his undershirt, to finally lay hand on his skin. Slightly jumping under the contact, Randall hummed under her touch, her fingers and palms sliding over his stomach and his side. It was to him as if she caressed his skin with a hot stone, sending waves of pleasure and warmth through his body.

He lowered his face into the crook of her neck, nipping gently at her flesh with his mouth, his hands now searching for the zip of her dress. 

Her skin was so soft, and her perfume crawled into his nose, making him all dizzy, and he wondered how he could have lived for so long without having such contact with a woman. No one had touched him like this, no one he could touch like this. No one he could kiss and, therefore, savour every touch and gasp.

With less fumbling, he found the zipper and pulled it down, making the dress come loose around her shoulders, and with Bel’s tugging here and there, it fell down. Revealing a strapless bra and a thin camisole, that covered her panties, the garter belt and part of her stockings.

Randall’s breath hitched over the sight, and it was the first time he lost the ability to be in control of himself. Three years, and aside he hoped he hadn’t forgotten how other things in the bedroom worked, he had evidently forgotten how lovely a woman in underwear could look like, and Bel looked more than lovely.

With a nervous laugh, he shook himself out of his observations, “I… I am sorry, I did not want to … you are gorgeous.”

Bel blushed at his compliment while he still smiled at her all besotted. Unable to say something, she leaned forward, her left hand sneaking around the back of his head, and then she pulled Randall into a kiss. Not passionate, just her sucking in his upper lip, pressing her nose against his face, thanking him for his words, and his way to look at her.

She knew what a man thought when he looked at her, what he wanted and how he saw her. Yes, she was beautiful, and she was pleased with what Mother Nature had given her, but she seldom had the feeling men appreciated it. Not the way a woman would enjoy the good looks of their partner.

The man in front of her, now was taken away by her, and it made her proud that he hadn’t seen everything yet? For sure.

He was taken away, because he adored her and would have been fine when she would have said stop at this moment, and she also knew he found her not only physically beautiful. He would never have come upstairs, never had kissed her in the first place, when he hadn't found her mind attractive, and that was what he showed her. With a smirk, a raise of his eyebrow, or when he allowed her in the office to have the last word in front of the others.

That’s why she kissed him like that, to thank him for being Randall Brown, the man with the tics, the one who fiddles with things and has brought so much trouble into the office on his first day as Head of News.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I am incredibly mean tease, but don't worry, there will be soon a new update.


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one needs no comment. You all know what will happen!

“What was that for?” he gasped, having felt it was a kiss with another purpose, as to lust and passion through him.

“Remember back in the car, when I said, you weren’t a good example?” she reached up to loosen his tie and to start to open the buttons of his shirt one by one.

“I do,” he rose his chin. “And you never gave me an answer.”

“I just have,” she opened the last button, looking at Randall. “You aren’t a good example of an ordinary man. And I am glad about this.”

Randall wasn’t sure if a heart could really swell, but if, his did. Taking off his glasses with verve, to place them on the next higher ground he could find, he leaned forward kissing her again. 

They both sank down onto the bed, side by side, and Randall’s lips trailed over Bel’s neck and throat, down to her collarbones, and she enjoyed his soft nibbling, the path of his tongue over her sensitive skin. 

Turning in his embrace, she showed him her backside, making him trail kisses over her shoulders and down her spine, his hands holding her by the waist trailing along the hard edge of her bra. He got the hint, and started to unhook the bra.

Glad that Bel seemed not to realize how bloody nervous he was, he sighed into the spot of her neck, right under her hairline, while his trembling fingers worked the bra off of her. The truth was, his heart was beating so hard and fast, that he could hear the blood stream in his ears so loud that it felt like he stood aside a raging river. It was all his imagination, and every time Bel sighed and gasped he could hear her and it calmed him, knowing it was right what he was doing — that she enjoyed it, and so he enjoyed it too. Enjoyed her soft skin under his lips, her odor in his nose and her hands on his skin.

Bel turned toward him, the bra now somewhere on the floor, only the camisole covering her upper body and he could see she was slightly shaking with the anticipation. The light from the other room bathed her face in soft colours, and when he saw her reach for the straps for the stockings, he stopped her by placing a hand over hers, sinking from the bed, down onto the floor, “Let me.”

Unaware she gave him a teasing quirk with her eyebrows, he only pursed his lips, raising one of his eyebrow, before turning his attention to the straps. 

It had been a while, but he had done it before, and not only once. Undressing a woman. And if he was honest, it was one of the favorite things to do for him. 

Under all the OCD, his tics, his sharp suits, he was only a man with desires. And even he was helpless with flirting and women, he knew how to touch them, how to be kind and gentle. 

When he had met Lix in the Civil War, and they had fallen in love, she had treated him like a dog sometimes, but when the night was warm enough, the booze in their blood had the right amount and they were both in need for gentle touches, she let him undress her.

Slowly, bit by bit, with a hundred kisses and that what he did now with Bel. 

Gently he took her left ankle and placed it on his upper thigh, his hands trailing her leg up, over the soft fabric to the clips that held the stockings in place. Carefully he opened all four of them, his fingertips trailing withal over her skin. Then he took her other leg, and did the same, but without removing the stockings, just the straps and then the garter belt. 

He had a weakness for stockings. Seeing a woman in it always made something in him shift. Sometimes this was hard to accept because he felt dirty over it. Then again, he had never went to certain nightclubs, never had paid a woman for sleeping with him or ever had looked at pornographic material (aside it was for the job). No, he knew he wasn’t dirty at all, he was just susceptible to beauty in any form.

He shoved his shirt finally from his body, leaving just the undershirt, and then started to place kissed on top of Bel’s thighs, his fingertips digging into her flesh, drawing little circles, not downwards, but upwards, close to her middle, but he kept his distance — for the moment.

His tender kisses made Bel gasp, and she placed her hands on his head, shoved them into his hair, his curls. She always had wondered how they would feel. Like most man, he used pomade, slicking them back, but she didn’t mind. A few strokes and his curls were coming loose again. She only could wonder how he must look like without the product in his hair and hoped in silence she would find out soon.

Slowly he kissed his way up over her hip bones, one hand trailing between her thighs toward her middle, the other held her, while he slowly made her lay down on the bed. 

Randall felt her squirm when he shuffled aside her, never leaving her body with his mouth and hands, and when his fingertips brushed softly against her centre Bel was so full of anticipation that she gasped and arched her back slightly.

“Randall…”

Lightly his fingertips kept on brushing against her covered centre, his mouth trailing over her breasts, the fine fabric of the camisole separating him from her skin. When he reached her left bosom, his tongue licked over the hard peak and two of his fingers began to circle the most sensitive part between her legs.

Everywhere was heat, her whole body shivered under his ministrations. When he had slowly taken off the garter belt and had started to kiss her thighs Bel had felt wet and wanting already, but now, she was helpless in her joy over his touches. 

Her eyes fell shut, unable to keep them open, unable to do anything but breath, moan and whisper either Randall’s name or the one of her creator. She not wanted to admit it, but she was already without any will. 

Her first thought had been, they would sleep with each other, just getting undressed, a quick fumble, and then it would happen, and then Randall had knelt down in front of her, taking his time. Let alone, that he was just about to tuck away the camisole, so nothing stood between his tongue and her hard nipples.

While his one hand gently teased the right one, his mouth sucked in the left one, and his other hand began to tuck away her panties, reluctant brushing through the curls of her pubic hair.

When she turned her hip, Randall knew she longed for his fingers between her folds, and he didn’t mind at all to give in. Enjoying her hard flesh in his mouth, and when he felt his fingers wet with her juice, he moaned. 

Bel was wet and willingly, moaning and bucking up here and there, and by now he could feel his own arousal almost painful between his legs. God, he would give much for her to touch him, but for now she deserved all the attention, and he knew when she would touch him he would come within under a minute. It was a disadvantage, not been touched by a woman for so long. He could probably come, by only looking at her gasp and moan while his fingers slowly slid into her.

Coming up to her, he kissed her softly, his fingers moving slowly inside of her, “Bel.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her teeth were biting her lower lip, and her hands grabbed his face, pulling him in for a deep kiss, “Don’t stop.”

Randall knew exactly what he was doing, he had learned to please a woman as a young boy and he always had been an attentive learner. Over the years he had been able to caught up on some other tricks. Foremost Lix had shown him how to touch a woman, and for a fleeting moment he thought, he might should thank her for it. 

Bel’s eyes fell close again, her chest rising and falling quickly, the lust ran through her, and he couldn’t get enough of the sight. His fingers moved only half its length in and out of her, and that on purpose — he wasn’t done with her yet.

When his tongue found her centre, Bel thought she would come right away, and her hands grabbed hard into the bedsheet. Randall had lowered himself between her legs, holding the fabric aside, licking gently over and around the little nub that sent sparks and waves of pleasure in short intervals through her body.

Randall was no one for cursing, but when Bel’s mouth slipped a profanity he sank with his fingers all the way down, and soon he felt her inner walls quiver around him. She was about to come and his own length twitched over the sight of her bending and shuddering under his touches. 

Glancing up from his position he saw her pressing her head into the pillow, and biting hard on her lips to hold down the noise she was making. A mix of muffling, gasping and moaning — he couldn’t get enough of the sight.

With her orgasm slowly easing away, he slowed his thrusts, and when she started to breath hard but normal again, he slipped his fingers out of her, tugging the fabric of her panties back into place, before placing gentle kisses on her stomach upwards.

Whatever just had happened, Bel thought, it had been the most amazing feeling since a very long time. She wasn’t inexperienced, but what Randall just had done, was new to her. When she felt his presence by her side, she moved the arm, she had rested over her face, and looked at him. 

He was breathing heavy and his lips were still wet from her, and she could see that his eyes were cloudy and full of lust. His hair was ruffled and Bel was about to fall in love with the sight of a disheveled Randall. 

Trailing over his features, she found herself looking down, seeing the obvious erection under his trousers. Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed him, her hand about to move into his trousers under the waistband of his boxers only to be stopped by him, spanning his hand around her wrist.

“Bel,” he whispered against her mouth, “I am… It’s…”

She looked at him, understanding what it was, “Randall, not only you is afraid not to live up to certain expectations.”

His eyes went wide,  _ of course _ , he thought about to tell her she needn’t to worry, but Bel just leaned in again, kissing him till his head rested on the pillow. Randall let go of her hand, and soon her fingers found his length, gently spanned around it.

He gasped hard over the contact, and Bel found him very hard and very wet already. Slowly she began to stroke him, feeling his hard sex pulse against her palm, and she was pleased with what she felt and more satisfied with him getting lost in her touch. 

Now it was him biting his lower lip, and his upper body moved with her strokes up and down, like he was laying in the sea and went with the waves.

“Like this?” she whispered, putting more pressure into her strokes, and Randall moaned loudly.

“Like this,” he now stared at her, one hand hanging in the air, about to touch her cheek, but another stroke made his hand retreat. She was draining him in the most beautiful ways.

Feeling a clenching, hot feeling in his belly, Randall knew he was about to come any moment. Afraid he would ruin the only set of clothes he had, he quickly opened his trousers, shoving down the material including his boxers with more his feet as with his hands and also removed his undershirt over his head in quick motion. 

Bel didn’t stop one moment, now fixed on his length in her hand. Brown and grey curls tickling the heel of her hand, while she pumped him. Feeling a different kind of arousal spread through her body, watching her lover move under her ministrations. And then he came, spilling himself out over his stomach, with a long groan, and his hand came around Bel’s to make her stop.

His whole body was shaking, and for a moment, Randall forgot where he was, and just let himself indulge in the warm feeling of his afterglow. Only when he felt a hand spread over his chest, his eyes flung open again, seeing a blushing Bel smile at him, and noticing the white fluid that was spattered over his stomach.

“I am sorry,” he breathed, giving her a shy smile.

“What for?” Bel asked unsure what he wanted to express.

“I made a mess,” he explained.

“I am getting a towel, okay?” she suggested and climbed over him to go to the bathroom to retrieve a towel. On the way back, she grabbed the cardigan and slipped it on, feeling now all vulnerable.

Returning to the bedroom, she sat aside him and placed the fabric over his stomach.

Randall muttered a thank you and cleaned himself. He felt sticky and dirty, but not because of what they had done. Aside his OCD, he never had a problem with sex, but the need to take a shower afterwards was usually very persistent, and he tended to pick up all the clothes to accurately place them on a stool. Something he always had made Lix mad with.

“Shower?” Bel read his mind.

“If it is not bothering you, I would like to take one,” he said in an almost whisper, reaching for his boxers, and slipping them quickly on.

“The bathroom is down the floor,” Bel motioned into the direction of it. “You’ll find a towel in the drawer. You want some tea?”

He stood by the passage, clutching to his undershirt, feeling the cold crawl up his feet and legs, “I would love to.” 

There was something he should say and do, but he was unable to do so. In an awkward motion, he turned around and went to take a shower. Not long, just long enough to rub himself clean with a bit of her shower gel, his hair he held out of the water stream.

When he returned to the living room, Bel was standing by the kitchen filling two mugs with tea. She hadn’t heard him, and so he used the opportunity to watch her fiddle around in the kitchen. 

The cardigan was dark red, and was long enough to cover her bottom, but not long enough to cover her upper thighs. He guessed she used it in the evening when she snuggled into a blanket and watched telly or read a book. Her blond hair hung down, and was slightly disheveled, touching the collar of the woolen cardigan. He smirked at the picture of her, slowly coming close, touching her light by the arm.

Nevertheless, she startled, and glanced at him with a smile, holding two cups of tea in her hands. 

Taking in her features, her lips red and swollen from his kisses, her make up softly smeared around her eyes — something that made her round, beautiful eyes just more lovely to him. Carefully he took the two mugs and placed them back onto the counter under her questioning looks, only to lean in and kiss her softly, his hands on her cheeks, his thumbs making circles on her cheek.

“Thank you,” he said. “For a beautiful evening. I am sorry, I just behaved so awkward, but… it’s been a while I have been with a woman overnight.” 

A smile spread over Bel’s lips, and she went on her tiptoes, pressing herself against him and gave him a deepening kiss, “Does that mean you stay the night?”

“If you let me,” Randall placed soft kisses around her ear, down her neck, breathing in her scent, while she hummed content. “You smell like almonds.”

When Randall would keep kissing her neck like this, she wouldn’t be able to hold back and push him back into bed, to make him make love to her, something he seemed to give a little more time as expected. 

“How is it possible I never noticed  _ this  _ Randall?” she placed a finger on his chest.

“This?” he reached for the tea and gave her one cup.

She needed to giggle over her silly thoughts, “I don’t know what you did there in the bedroom, but you don’t look like it in the office.”

He swallowed, suddenly dark red in the face, and Bel saw he was heavily flustered, obviously not used that someone told him, he was good with his fingers and tongue. She couldn’t know about the rest, but she thought it had been a promising start. 

“I not wanted to cause embarrassment.”

He gave her a small smile, before sipping his tea, watching her do the same. The hot liquid felt good, and weariness befall both of them, so Bel took his hand and lead him back into the bedroom, where they shuffled under the blanket, and without hesitation or asking, Bel snuggled into his arm. Surprised Randall looked at her, without her seeing it. A pleasant surprise and he smiled at her, placing a kiss on her hair. Right now the Head of News was a man who couldn’t believe his luck. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah,... I'd say I have something more for you in store. Next Chapter!


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spent the night. They cross the border. How will it go on? What's with the fears? How will it be in the office? Will anyone find out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is actually four little chapters in one, but everyone alone to small to publish so...

The first light shined through the window, and Randall slowly woke up, finding Bel lay aside him, eyes open.

Rolling his own, as if to ask what was the matter, then he smirked, when she greeted him with a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he guessed it wasn’t later as seven, “Observing me?”

“Yes,” she smiled, her hand brushing over his cheek. Then she leaned in, capturing his lips softly. 

With that Randall’s eyes fell shut again, and he hummed against her mouth, feeling her body shuffle closer. His arms embraced her on instinct, making sure this was not a dream.

The last time he had a woman overnight, he had woken to an empty bed -- back in Paris, with the girl he had told Bel about. A bitter disappointment. 

Soon their innocent kiss had deepened, their tongues licking around each other and their mouths sucking passionately at each other's skin. It didn’t take long and soon Bel felt Randall’s growing erection pressing against her.

Shoving down her knickers, Bel shifted one of her legs over him, moving her middle against him, making him groan, “Randall, please.” 

To underline her plea, she reached between them. Under the blanket, her hand tucking away the waistband of his boxers, cupping his erection. Randall moaned, bucking into her hand.

“Do you really want this?” he breathed, the tip of his length already by her entrance, and he knew that there was no going back. Bel wanted this, and he wanted it too. 

“I want you so much. I wait if you make me, but … I can feel you want this too,” she whispered hotly against his lips, grinding against him. 

“I want you so badly, Bel, I can’t even put it into words,” he pulled her in, kissing her hard and rolled her over. There were no more barriers anymore. Not in clothes and not in their heads. Everything was pushed away, and they were ready to go that final step.

With him rolling her onto her back, his length pushed into her all the way down with a gasp. Bel had been ready for him, and moaned into his mouth when he kissed her, arching his back, pressing into her. No space should be between them. 

Heat and waves of pleasure pulsed through them both. They fit so perfectly, and the feeling was utterly dazzling and she felt so good around him. 

God, yes, he had missed out so much the last few years and never in the world Randall had thought, Bel would be the woman to show him again how wonderful lovemaking was. 

Her hands on his back, by his lower back muscles, moaning into his ear, before she searched one of his hands and linked them.

The way he gave them a slow rhythm made her body tingle with feelings, a sensual prickle that started by her toes and the top of her head, slowly spreading through her whole body. 

It felt so good, it felt better as with others before. She couldn’t tell why, maybe because they had their time before. The dancing around, the exploring. 

With Randall it was slow and gentle, but wanting. As restrained he sometimes seemed, he knew how to please her without much thinking. By intuition he felt her climax rise, and quickened his thrusts, whispering little secrets into her ear no one else would ever hear about. That she felt so good, that there was no other woman before he wanted to have so badly.

He asked her if it was good, and her answer was digging her nails into his bottom, pulling him even deeper. It was wanting and a hint of raw, but pure lovemaking. This wasn’t a wild affair or just about sex, this were two lovers finding to each other.

And then Bel came under him, and their mouths sucked greedily at each other, while Randall followed her only seconds after. An explosion of luck, underlined with echoes of moans and hums. Sweat prickling on their bodies. Cold and hot, them dying a little. Together. 

When Randall found his breath again, he carefully rested his weight on his forearms, while his face was still buried in the crook of her neck. Unable to bring himself to disconnect from her, his mouth kissed her salty skin, humming over her touches on his back. 

He could lay like this all day, just make love to her again and again, what might could be a danger in his age. Smirking over the thought, he raised his head, glancing at Bel.

“Shower?” she smirked.

“No,” he answered, moving off of her, kissing down to her chest.

“No?” Bel wondered, watching him get indulged in the after play. She wouldn’t stop him.

“No,” he sucked on of her nipples into his mouth, and then, after letting go, he tucked the cardigan she was still wearing over it, so the temptation would leave him. “I’d rather lay a little longer with you here,” he shuffled aside her, pulling the blanket over them, “It’s not even eight, and I never get up before eight on Saturdays.”

“How unusual,” Bel rolled on her side, facing him. “I thought you’re one for getting up at six every day, reading the newspapers and thinking about fancy ways of yanking your staffs chain.”

He grinned at her, raising an eyebrow, “That’s exactly what I do, but I can do that while staying in bed. Also…,” he stopped suddenly shy.

“Also?”

“It’s not me pulling the chain right now,” he pursed his lips at her. 

To that Bel’s eyes went wide, “Mister Brown, are you suggesting anything?”

A low chuckle, “I’d never dare, Miss Rowley,” and then he kissed her again before they sank back into a slumber. His arm around her, resting on her shoulder caressing her skin even in his sleep.

When another hour had passed, and Randall felt the first restlessness rise, he began to brush Bel’s forehead till she slowly stirred awake.

“Bel?”

“Mh?”

“Do you really believe, you have to live up to certain expectations?” he stroked her arm with his fingertips, his eyes trailing across the ceiling. 

Bel knew about his relationship with Lix, and it must be odd, he thought, to walk into the office on Monday, seeing Lix. Talking with her, with all what had happened till now. 

His own fear was, that Bel might make comparisons with her old lovers, that were probably way younger as him. Now he had found out it was hers too, only vice versa. She had told him, that what he had done in bed was new to her. So she maybe thought that she looked like an inexperienced silly little girl to him. “Is it because of… of Lix?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” she had trouble to open up, but felt it was necessary and was glad Randall gave her all the time in the world till she had found the right words, “it’s more because I am … I never thought I say that, but I feel suddenly young and dull. I had my experiences, my adventures, my mistake — as Lix used to express it,” they both chuckled, “but, why would you want to spend your time with me. You are not the type of man, who looks for a young, pretty girl, you are the kind of man who wants …”

 

“Inner beauty. Cleverness. Courage and Intelligence. A woman, not a girl. And you think, you are nothing of all that? Yes, you are young, but I am impressed by you since the beginning. Yes, you are not as old as me, what makes me ask, why you lay in bed with an old sod like me? But believe me, only because I am older, it doesn’t mean I am wiser, or I will patronize you. I never would, because I think I can learn a lot from you. With age not only wisdom comes, also stubbornness,” he turned to her, sitting up. “But Bel, you should know I am not one for a short affair.”

 

Bel sat up too, frowning at him. Not angry but she couldn’t understand why he was still with the fear, “Do you think this is just an affair for me? Do you believe this was what I wanted all the time? Randall, no!”

“I am sorry, I made you angry,” he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sensing this feeling again. Of him wrecking things. “Why me?”

She let her eyes travel over his back, before she shuffled toward him, bringing her hands around him, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulders, “Why not?”

“I could give you five good reasons, or maybe more,” he turned his head slightly, reaching than for his glasses.

Bel made him turn, “I don’t care about your five good reason. Just accept it Mister Brown, that I want to be with you. To explore this with you, as you said it. I don’t have plans. But I also wouldn’t dismiss a proper relationship with you. But what we need is time and …”

“... no rash decisions.”

“No rash decisions,” she placed a kiss on his forehead. And when she saw he was fine with her answer, and the worries pushed away she added, “I am going to take a shower. Promise me you won’t grab your things and desert.”

“Has that happened before?” he asked half amused, half concerned.

“Well, let’s say, it was me who deserted once,” she winked and left toward the bathroom, and he smiled about it.

When she came back from the shower, Randall had approached the kitchen and had rummaged around in it, to find something to eat. It was not much, but at least, he had found some bread, some eggs, and bacon.

“Your fridge is basically empty,” he turned to her, wearing his trousers, the undershirt and the braces over his shoulders.

“I know,” she grinned and joined him while he took care of the eggs in the pan. “I was busy having a nice date with my boss last night.”

He groaned at her remark, not liking she called him boss, and she pulled a quick face, excusing for it, “I am not good at cooking.”

“I am,” he shrugged, throwing in the bacon.

“So, a good share of talents, then?” she covered everything in the pan with salt and pepper, he had placed aside it.

“Seems so,” he stirred in the mass and waited for Bel to place two dishes in front of him. After he had given them both the equal amount of eggs and bacon, he put some of the bread on each plate, and held one out to her. “Bon Appetit!”

“Thank you,” she beamed at him and let herself down onto the sofa, and waited that Randall joined her. “It’s good.”

“Of course, it is,” he said, knowing he was a good cook. As a lifelong bachelor, he had to learn how to cook long ago and had made it his hobby. After a few bites, he turned toward her, “Bel…”

“Oh, let me guess," she shoved a fork with eggs into her mouth, what didn't make her stop from talking, "that’s the part where you tell me, you have to go home after breakfast, to run some errands and bring a suit to the cleaners. You are very sorry, but you really can’t stay-”

He placed the clean fork against her mouth, to stop her babbling, “No. Rash. Decisions, Bel.”

She gulped, not having noticed that she had sprung into her usual modus operandi to avoid disappointment, “You are right.”

“Nevertheless,” Randall smiled grimly at her. “Yes, I think I have to go home. Do exactly as you said, but! I wanted to ask if you would like to come by in the evening? I cook us dinner, and maybe you stay the night? If you like, of course.”

Bel wanted of course, and so they spent the evening with Randall cooking some pasta and Bel being all overwhelmed by the large book collection of his. Browsing through them, but always putting them back neatly. Wandering through his place, that was bigger as hers, more grown up, one could say. 

The living room, in colours of brown and white. A leather couch, she could imagine them to cuddle there. A large bedroom, with a nice large bed. She even peeked into his wardrobe, finding his suits accurately hung up, touching some of them by the shoulder, smiling about it. 

Randall watched her amused while she wandered around his place like a curious cat, never having that before. There was no hesitance, just a wonderful force and a joy, he was about to fall in love with. 

After their dinner, Randall asked her if she would like to listen to some records, and she happily browsed through his records. Some of them he had bought in Paris, and she wanted to hear them, “Only when you ask me to dance.”

He put the record on, and turned to her, holding out his hand, “All night long, Miss Rowley, when you allow me.”

And so Bel found herself in his embrace and giggled, hoping he wouldn’t get weary of it, “You must think I am childish.”

“And you must think I am boring,” he only answered, and she got his point. They were thinking too much about what the other so not cared about.

“When do you show me your Charleston?” she teased, and he swirled her around herself, before pulling her in again.

“I knew I would regret telling you this,” he began to nuzzle her ear, placing little kisses there.

“I insist on it, Mister Brown,” she gave him more room, enjoying the intimacy.

“If this is so, Miss Rowley,” he kissed toward her mouth. “Let me check my calendar first,” and with that, he kissed her deep and tender and slowly danced with her to his bedroom. Bel didn’t object at all.

They spent the night and the Sunday afternoon together, doing what couples in such early state did when they hadn’t any work to do before Bel left Randall to prepare for the next day.

“We can’t do this in the office; you know that,” Randall stood by the door, watching her get dressed. “If someone finds out about this, there is a chance we get into trouble.”

“I know,” Bel only said, knowing it very well. “So you better contain yourself, Mister.”

“Don’t kid a kidder, love,” he smirked, and Bel gave him a quick kiss on his lips, before leaving home.

They hadn’t a plan for the upcoming days, as it was all too fresh. Yes, no touching or kissing in the office. Nothing too obvious. No flirting, just the usual business. Whatever the usual business was. 

 

In the next few days, they found it easy to play a charade while working, as work was busy anyway. There was no time for much thinking. When they were alone, they shared shy touches, but no kissing, even when this was the hardest part, but Randall couldn’t risk their both reputation with such foolish behaviour.

No one of the others seemed to see a difference, and after two days they had relaxed about it. In the evening Randall asked her as usual to drive her home, underlined with a meaningful look, and Bel always made sure she wouldn’t bother him, and then he drove to her place or to his and they spent the night together. 

Nevertheless, Randall urged he had to change before going to the office, and advised Bel to do the same. They couldn’t show up in the same clothes day after day.

When he was at her place he left in the morning, driving home and changed, and when she was at his place he drove with her to her place, waited and then drove with her to a bus station. It was all a bit unnerving, but the secrecy was necessary. 

It was a difficult time and they were responsible for the show. If it would be revealed, that they had an affair — and it was nothing more at the moment, one of them probably would get fired. 

Even when they would date all official it would come so, the heads of the BBC simply wouldn’t allow it. It would be to attackable. The show would get a problem. 

 

When it was Thursday, they both held the morning conference as usual. Leaning side by side against the desk that always stood in front, waiting for the others to arrive. Randall read, and Bel wrote down something into her notepad. They needed to talk about the next weeks plan and do a little brainstorm of what to bring next.

While Hector had been late in the past so very often, that he had always missed the morning conference, he was now always on time. It was still too early for him sometimes, and so he usually settled into the chair in the back, at Isaacs desk, which once had belonged to Freddie. A cup of coffee in front of him and a piece of paper, so he could note down important things.

Usually he didn’t make big notes, Freddie did for them, and he would be briefed later anyway, aside he had a good memory, so there was no need for him. Instead he leaned back in his chair and just let his eyes travel around, or watched the others, while smoking his cigarette.

At this day, he wandered with his eyes over Randall and the suit he was wearing. He really needed to know where this man got his suits, because they seemed nice and his own supplier had closed his store recently. The cut was not his, but the fabric, and maybe they had something for him in store too. And while he mused over it, his eyes fell on Randall’s tie, a red one with little white dots, and he frowned. It was the same he had been wearing yesterday.

Why he remembered? Because he had been in his office, talking about one of the recent reports, and Randall had done his tie. A red one with white dots.

Taking a drag from his cigarette followed by a sip of his coffee he was about to brush it off, when Bel stepped back and settled aside Randall, leaning against the desk. 

Nothing unusual, when there wouldn’t be the close proximity between them. Her upper arm brushed against Randall’s and he didn’t move away, he not even budged. The Head of News just sat there, accepting Bel’s nearness. 

Not that Hector was extremely attentive when it came to relationships between people and sometimes was (as most men) helpless with women’s indications and their way of showing interest, he knew his colleagues good enough, to know that Randall was no one for searching physical contact. He even tried to avoid handshakes here and there, that Hector knew, had experienced it first hand.

He knew hat Bel was aware of the tics of their boss and Hector could remember, that, in the past, she often had taken a step back from Randall, to give him the room he signaled that he wanted it. Now, there was no signal and so no room between them.

Glancing around in the room, while Bel talked with Lix about some happenings in the Middle East, Hector tried to find out if anyone else saw what he saw. 

Isaac was listening to Lix’s talking, scribbling down some notes. Freddie was busy talking to Sissy and throwing in a few arguments here and there. Shouldn’t  _ he,  _ of all, see it? The man with the feel for all hidden and strange behaviour — because this was strange, Hector concluded. It was foremost exceptional, that he was the only one seeing it, or was he imagining something?

The tie, something like that can happen. He was the best example of it. The proximity between them, a possibility of coincidence. Huffing, he sipped his coffee again, drawing attention from Lix.

“What is it, darling?” she leaned over, and he just shook his head.

“Too early.”

She smirked and leaned back again, and Hector leaned back into his stool, and then the conference came slowly to an end. 

There it happened. 

Bel was about to step to the blackboard when she turned back to Randall asking him for some files, and he took them from the desk holding them out to her.

“There, we have to double check on this detail,” Randall pointed at some spot on the paper, and Bel nodded, taking the report from his hand. Literally. Her hand brushed against his, and Hector could clearly see how two of Randall's fingers gave her hand a short squeeze. They were not looking at each others; there was just the contact between them. Deliberate. With full force and will.

With a soft bang, Hector fell forward, his hands landing on the desk, making everyone turn toward him.

“Uhm, sorry, spilled my coffee,” he quickly did as he was dapping away something from his jacket, and tried not to look too intently at Randall and Bel.

This hadn’t happened for a reason, Hector thought. Then he put one and one together. Randall was driving Bel, they had been together at the dinner party, and now they were flirting with each other. 

No, they were not flirting, they were already beyond it. With a quiet laugh, he reached for his pen, ready to venture something. Quickly he scribbled something down, and folded the paper, before searching in one of the drawers for an envelope.

"Isaac, come here for a moment, will you,” he called out to the young man, who quickly joined him. He shoved the paper into the envelope, and sealed it, writing his own name on it, and the date. “Will you take this envelope and seal it away, here in the office. Somewhere no one else but you can reach it?”

“Of course, but why?” Isaac asked, holding the letter in hand.

“State secret, Isaac, just make sure it’s safe with you, will you?” Hector smirked at him, standing up, to leave the desk for him.

“I will, sure,” Isaac then folded the letter once, and shoved it into the drawer he could lock.

“What was that?” Bel suddenly appeared at Hector’s side, having watched the incident.

“Ah,” Hector responded casually, “an experiment. Nothing more.”

Lowering her chin, she frowned at him, “Why are you smiling?”

“I am not smiling!” Hector objected. “Well, I do, I am just a happy person.”

“Since when?” Bel pushed, feeling something was up with her Anchorman. “I can see the mischief in your eyes, Hector. If this is you, thinking about going to a bar soon-”

“-no bar! Have a little trust. I am just smiling,” he gave her his best ‘on-the-air-smile', before telling her he had to join Freddie to talk about some questions for the next show, and then quickly vanished, afraid she would realize what he had apprehended. 

That the Head of News and the Producer of The Hour were involved. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hector! It's always Hector in my fics, isn't it?! :D


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More insight in Bel's and Randall's relationship. More insight into Randall's past and the person he had been with. Lix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and I hope you enjoy all those recent updates. Tomorrow I leave for family visit over the long weekend. I have some chapters in the draft and probably will post them, but I can't be sure. I have seven days left for wrapping up this story, and I am on a good way.
> 
> Also I think I should again point out, this were the 50s. Sex and stuff, wasn't that open like we know it today, so don't wonder when you read some parts here. It was all complicated and restrained and some sort of pleasure was completely new to some people.

Randall and Bel settled into their new found relationship, trying to spend as much time together as possible. As work was exhausting on the one side, and forcing themselves to stay away from each other during the day on the other side, they found each other usually all tired in the arms of the other in the evening. 

Bel used to rest her head in Randall's lap, yawning, her feet dangling over the edge of the sofa, and Randall peeked inside a book, or some newspapers, his right hand holding the paper, his left, brushing through Bel’s hair. Music in the background, or the telly on a low tune. 

Bel enjoyed these moments. It was unnerving, and she often relaxed so much under his ministrations, that she fell asleep. Sometimes Randall shuffled aside her, holding her close kissing the tip of her nose, then her lips, and whispered to her how perfect she had been in the office that day. 

Sometimes they went to bed and fell asleep only to wake up in the middle of the night, in need to make love to each other. 

Randall couldn’t say no to her, not when she moaned so beautifully into his ear while coming, telling him that it felt so good. His fingers inside of her, his tongue inside her mouth, making her almost come before he retreated, left her panting and unfinished, only to push into her with his middle, what brought her into the highest spheres possible before she came so hard it hurt sometimes. 

She repaid him every time, not always the moment after, at times just the next night, or in the morning, making him come late to the office because she had crawled under the blanket, licking him. 

Such intimacy was new to her, and she felt proudly indecent doing it the first time. Of course, she knew about it, something another sort of women did, but with Randall it was different. He never had told her to do it; he would never even indicate such thing in the faintest. 

He even wanted to stop her when she was starting to kiss down his chest and belly, taking him in hand, but she brushed his concerns aside, telling him she never would do something she wouldn’t like to do. So he became her human guinea pig. His muffled gasps when she took him in her mouth, told her he didn’t mind at all.

 

“You make us both come late to work, Isobel,” he rested his head against the wall, searching a handkerchief in his pockets while struggling for air, dapping away the sweat on his forehead. 

Isobel. Her given name and he had found pleasure in using it as special kind of endearment, always then when he found himself toppled over by her. What happened quite often.

She tucked him in again, closed his fly, and checked his suit for a proper fit, before taking the handkerchief from his hand, to brush it mischievously over her mouth, “Why didn’t you stop me then?”

His nostrils used to flare then, and a thin smile on pursing lips appeared on his face. He knew they were shagging like rabbits these days, and it was impossible to go on like this because the demands would sooner or later kill them both. He already wanted just to sleep a week straight sometimes, but with her at his side, his libido forbid him anything else but pleasure her. 

Instead of answering the question he grabbed her by the arm and kissed her deeply, licking his own scent from her lips and tongue. Bel Rowley so knew how to pull his chain. 

 

Later in the office, Bel stood in the conference room at the blackboard, sorting out some old newspaper clips, unaware she was swaying lightly and did hum a made-up tune.

“What’s with you, darling?” Lix approached her, after having her watched for solid five minutes while she had sorted some mails around on another desk.

Since a couple of days Lix had sensed something was up with Bel, she simply hadn’t found out yet what it was. Something good, there she was sure because Bel was swaying and humming and a few weeks ago when the thing with Freddie was going havoc, she was all the different.

“What’s with me?” Bel asked, and kept sorting the paper clips.

“You know you are humming,” Lix only said, her peering eyes directed at her, but Bel ignored it.

“People hum, Lix,” was all she answered, finally turning toward her.

“I never heard you hum,” Lix leaned back, settling onto one corner of the desk. Smoking with relish her cigarette, amused wrinkles around her eyes, “You are dating, don’t you? Hector was right.”

Bel rolled her eyes, “People date, Lix, I date. Even you date, right?”

“I don’t date!” Lix chuckled low.

“No, you claim,” Bel gave her a look. She had seen the older woman flirt, with men and women. Lix wasn’t one for being persuaded; she was the one who usually seduced others to do something. Lix commented it with a grin — attentive girl Bel was.

“I don’t mind, it suits you, the humming and swaying,” she said then dismissively. “Just don’t get your heart broken again, will you?”

“It’s in everybody's interest, foremost mine,” Bel turned, seeing Hector march in. “So I’ll try to remember that! Hector?”

“I want the Jefferson Scandal!” he interrupted, waving around with the newspaper from the morning.

Lix grinned, and Bel huffed, “When this is your show, you can do whatever you want, but — sorry to say — it’s not your show.”

“Don’t mock me, Bel,” Hector pointed at the article in the paper vigorously as if this alone could change her mind. “It’s a good story.”

“It is, and I have talked with Mister Brown about it,” Bel explained. “It’s his decision.”

Hector frowned at both of them, and then marched to where he thought Randall was to find. To his luck in the middle of the corridor, but Randall turned the moment he saw Hector come up to him.

“Mister Brown! I want to have a word about the Jefferson Scandal,” Hector followed Randall, Bel behind him.

“I said already to Miss Rowley, it is too boulevard,” Randall stopped by a clipboard and removed some letters.

“Bel!” Hector turned to her about to give up all too quickly.

“I told you if you can convince him, you got my yes, otherwise…”

Hector huffed, turning back to Randall who browsed through some mails,  “Remind me why it is too boulevard?”

“The boy has stolen information and is also homosexual,” Randall recapitulated. “That’s not the sort of news we want to do. It doesn’t matter what we are going to talk about; people will only have stuck the word  _ homosexual  _ in their mind, and go havoc. Remember, 76 letters of complaint the last time.”

“It’s not true, I can do the interview right,” Hector exclaimed, pushing his hands into his side, to show off his broad chest. Like this would ever work with Randall. “The boy has been discredited. The minister he used to work for, knew about his homosexuality -- he didn’t mind. Only when the boy found out about the ministers affair, he became a problem. They fired him, based on a lie. You know it, I know it.”

“Mister Madden-”

“I can make the people see the affair, instead of the boy,” Hector ran in front of Randall, so he had to stop.

Randall looked to Bel; she had told him earlier it was his decision. She knew on a good day Hector was able to do it, the question was, if he would have a good day.

Randall breathed out long, “Don’t disappoint me, Mister Madden.” With that, he went on and left a happy Hector behind.

“You’ll talk to Freddie about it, clear?” Bel warned him and then followed the way Randall had gone.

She knocked at his office, short before she entered and closed the door behind her. Randall was sitting on his sofa reading through some files, and she joined him, “I liked how you handled Hector. It was your plan to do the story from the beginning, but you let him dangle, didn’t you?”

Randall smirked down his papers, “Mister Madden needs a short leash sometimes. If not he would overshoot it.”

Bel leaned softly against him, agreeing with a hum, she was dared to kiss him on the cheek, but knew Randall was no one for open affection in the office, and so she just brushed her hand over his, before standing up again.

“Bel?” Randall placed his papers aside, following her. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Not in particular, why?”

“I've wondered, if you would like to have dinner with me,” he was nervous she could see it, after all, she wondered why.

“I would love to! Your place again?”

“Uhm, I thought about going out,” he proposed carefully, afraid she would find it too daring. “There is an excellent restaurant, it’s a little drive, but I thought it might be something different instead of sitting home all the time. We could see a movie if you like.”

She rose an eyebrow at him, “Having dinner, in public? And a movie? Such horrendous evening activity, just to please your … girlfriend?”

 

It made him blush like she had attempted, “It’s not horrendous when I am with you. I know I am not good at going out, but I am willing, I hope you see that.”

Quickly Bel stepped up to him, and reached for his hands, “Of course I do! I know you don’t give much of parties and dancing, and having dinner in public with me.”

“You know why that is so, it’s not because I don’t want, I just…,” he exhaled frustrated. “I want to date you all openly. Take you by the hand and make everybody see that I am with you, but all we would get would be frowned at and whispered insults. The truth is, you  _ could be _ my daughter, Bel.”

“You are sick of the secrecy?”

“That’s not it. Here, they would accept it. They know us, but on the higher floors, it will cause a problem. The public is the problem; they never accept us as a pair. They always will assume-”

Bel kissed him. He wouldn’t have stopped talking if she hadn’t. Randall would have fallen into the rabbit hole of worries and doubts, and the only chance she had was kissing him silent. 

He let her, let his hands come around her waist, holding her close while his lips answered her call.

“Better?” she asked after a moment, stepping back from him.

“Better,” he smiled.

“That’s what we do; we wait two more months, and then we decide what to do,” Bel had thought about the problematic earlier, finding it as unnerving as Randall did. They had to do something sooner or later, or they would burn out in a web of lies and secrets. “By then we know what we want from each other if this has hope or not. If it fits, and then we do something about it. I don’t know what, but let's try not to rush it. We could spend the weekend somewhere no one knows us, would you like that?”

“I’d like that,” a knock on his door made them startle out of the moment.  It was frustrating sometimes. “Come in!”

It was Lix who stepped inside, “Ah, there you are. Bel, I have McCain on the phone. Can you please talk with him, because when I keep talking to him, he probably never will work for us again.”

“God, no! I never thought I’d say it, but,” she turned to Randall giving him a smirk, “we need him! Your office?”

“Yes,” Lix nodded and watched Bel walk by only to turn around for one moment to Randall, telling him she would see him later. He nodded, giving her a smile, “You do.”

The observation made Lix step inside his office, instead of leaving.

“And I can help you with what?” Randall turned to her, having noticed there was something on her mind.

“You like her!” Lix exclaimed suddenly, following the gut instincts of her.

“Excuse me?” Randall turned to her.

“Since a couple of days,” Lix tried to remember some particular moments, “Bel is all… gleeful. Is humming and,” how stupid of her not to have noticed, “glowing, I’d dare say.”

“I can’t follow you, Lix,” Randall shook his head, walking over to the corkboard on his wall, reaching for some paper hanging there.

“First, I thought it’s this boy she dated a few times, and then I just saw you and her together,” Lix pointed with her cigarette into the direction Bel had left to. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Randall felt suddenly cornered, biting the corner of his lower lip, he scratched his left ear and decided when he had to talk to her about it; he wouldn’t do it while someone else could come in any second. He pointed to the open door, and Lix understood, closing it, “It is you. She is having a relationship with you.”

Even the smallest yes, was all impossible for Randall to utter. It felt strange to him that Lix confronted him with it. 

Was he having a relationship with Bel? He drove her home for a few weeks, and then he had been with her at the work-related dinner party. He had been at dinner parties before, but it had been the first with her. Their talks in the car had started all awkward, slowly finding common ground, till they finally had relaxed around each other. She teasing him. He teasing her. Them laughing, having amused conversations about the job, some people they knew in the management floors of the BBC. 

Bel thanking Randall for the ride, and he waiting for her to reach her door before he drove off. There had been nothing there, till they were at the dinner party, and he had seen her eyes, watching all the couples dance, with delight and some sort of yearning. He couldn’t be sure, but he guessed she had a scene in her head, some moment that had long passed. A dance with Freddie maybe? Or not a moment, instead a feeling of letting go, of once not in need to lead. 

The way she had softly smiled at the dance floor, her upper body swaying almost unseen with the music, that picture it was, that had made him walk  up to her and ask her to dance with him. 

From the dance floor to her door, from not knowing what to say to kissing her. From kissing her, to go to a play with her, to kiss her again, sleeping with each other. Again and again. Feeling happy around her. Sometimes cooking for her, while she laid on the couch reading the newspaper to him, telling him what silly story “Uncovered” had aired once again. 

Every little bit of it, from the beginning to the now was new to him. And he was so no expert in ‘something new in private life’ and that was why he was unable to answer to Lix.

“Are you completely insane?” she walked over to the ashtray and stubbed her cigarette, after watching him for a whole minute mulling over her question. She had done it before, watching him slowly shutting down inside, watching him process accusations over and over again, without ever coming to a conclusion. Glad she knew what to do in such moments, knowing she had to push him out of the loop with a flippant question.  

It helped. “Could you elaborate why this is insane?” Randall frowned, feeling an attack coming. “Is it so impossible to imagine that…” Imagine what? Randall thought. Him being happy? Him being in love? Him being utterly stupid?

“Randall! She is your producer, and you could be her father,” Lix stepped up to him, telling him what they all knew already. “What has gotten into you, doing that to her?”

“What?” Do what to her? He wasn’t doing anything, and yet…, “What do you mean, doing that to her? What are you suggesting?”

Lix leaned back and took Randall in for a while, then she gave him an almost bitter laugh, “You are not going to tell me, you have feelings for her? Are you in love with her?”

The conversation took a road Randall couldn’t foresee. With Lix, asking the straightforward question it was always complicated, “Miss Rowley and I… I think it’s none of your business, Lix,” he walked over to his locker, only to be in motion, and when he found his face in the mirror, he nervously began to redo his tie.

“Not if you are going to break her heart,” Lix leaned against his desk, not sure if she could take the new situation. She had known that Randall was driving her from time to time. Bel hadn’t made a secret out of it. 

Hector was driving herself from time to time, so where was the problem? She never had guessed that Bel would ever find interest in Randall. Not because he was older or because he was odd — there was no denial about that point — more because they seemed so different. 

She knew Randall, knew he was always looking for a home. A woman he could adore, lean into, spent endless evenings on the sofa reading to her, relax, everything Bel wasn’t. Bel was a whirlwind, wanted to go out to dances and the movies, was quick witted and always fell for the showoffs like Hector.

“First the story with Freddie, and now you. She’ll break apart when you hurt her.”

Randall finished his tie first, before he shut the locker with a bang, “What is  _ this _ ?”

“It’s a question, and advice,” Lix crossed her arms in front of her.

“An advice? What exactly is your advice?”

“I think you know what my advice is,” Lix wandered over to the bookshelves, watching her reflection in the glass of the doors.

“It’s everything,  _ but  _ an advice,” Randall glared at her back. “I tell you what it is. Either you are very protective of Bel, that is, why you want me to step away from her, or there is something else to your conduct?”

Lix swirled around again, wishing she hadn’t finished her cigarette too early, “What are  _ you  _ suggesting now?”

“I think you are saying that all, because of our past,” Randall said with a calm voice, but was burning inside. Everything they hadn’t said to each other over the last 20 years was now to come up. Nothing that wanted to come up, as it was buried very deep, and it fought him to stay there.

For a moment Lix didn’t know how to react to it, she was ready to fight him, like always. Because Lix Storm was a fighter — always had been. And she knew how passionate she could get with Randall, but for once, he had found a weak spot, and so she was lost for words, her lips unable to make a sound.

“I simply not want her to be hurt,” she then spat. Waiting another minute, fighting the same demons like Randall did, to keep everything else to herself. He had woken her with his return, and now, finally, they wanted to come out, see the light again, “And you running away then!”

An almost sob escaped Randall’s lips, when he finally saw what this was about, “How dare…,” he broke off, knowing it was the wrong way, knowing accusations wouldn’t help anyone. “I didn’t run away from you.”

“It was you who left Spain, not me!”

“Yes,” he admitted, “because _you made_ _me_ go away!” his arm shot into the air pointing somewhere into the distance. Maybe Spain, maybe just the end of the universe. “You just shut down, you shut me out, and nothing I said, nothing I did, made you open up again. The moment you told me you were pregnant with Sofia, you had already made the decision to give her away. You had made it without me.”

“There was no other way; I couldn’t raise a child,” tears began to stream down Lix’s face. “It was impossible for me.”

“I know, Lix, I know why, and I am not telling you, you did wrong. What was wrong, was not giving me the slightest chance to proof to you, how much I loved you. I would have done anything for you and Sofia, to make it work,” Randall needed to take off his glasses. “I wanted to marry you, I could have built a home for us, but I knew it would have made no sense at the end. It would have been a prison for you, and you would have hated me for the rest of your life for it. A bird with clipped wings,” for a moment he was about to break down, but quickly composed himself, putting the glasses back on. 

“And so I left, I needed to leave. How could I have stayed? Watching you giving birth to our daughter, seeing her, and falling deeper in love with you and her? Because then I would have done it, I would have fought for her. I would have made you keep her, and none of us would have been happy afterward. That’s why I left, because I loved you, and because I had to let you go. 

“And now, you are standing there, telling me I don’t have the right to love anymore? You have moved on, once more, without even telling me. I had to figure it out myself -- like so many things. 

“Bel,... Bel has become important to me. I don’t know if I love her, it’s just too early. In case she gives me a chance, I am certain I can love her, but that’s not my decision. Bel is young, impulsive; she might not know what she wants. And that’s what I told her.”

Lix walked up to him, reading it in his eyes. The feelings, his adoration for the young woman. She knew that expression, that gleam in his eyes. She had seen it the first time back in Spain, 25 years ago. Now again, but this time, it wasn't reserved for her, “You would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, like I would have done for you,” he whispered, reaching for her hand. “I loved you so much; I still do in one corner of my heart. And I know you loved me, but your freedom was always the stronger feeling in you, and I always have respected that. I always knew that. You know I am not one for breaking hearts.”

How would it have ended when they would have found out, that Sofia was still alive? They might have gone on another date, would have managed to get back together, to fall in love all over again. Having a long necessary happy end with each other after all those years. 

Maybe they had met up with Sofia, maybe. It all came differently, and Lix had to decide what she wanted from there on. She cared about Randall and had loved him, and yes, there was still love, but how could she get back together with him, seeing him every day, telling him she would love him, share the bed with him, while he remembered her about Sofia and her not being there. 

It would have cost too much, and so she had decided to let go of him. She didn’t need a man, she needed her sleep and needed to let go of it finally. To let go of Sofia also meant to let go of Randall — for good.

“No, you are one for getting your heart broken,” Lix touched his cheek, smiling gently at him. “I am so sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry,” he placed his hand over hers. “I am not regretting a single day with you. I am not regretting we gave Sofia away — it was a decision we both made in the end. The only thing I regret is that I waited too long to look for her. This is my regret and only mine.”

Lix broke the eye contact, thinking about his words, and then began to nod. Returning to him with her eyes, she leaned in and gave him a short kiss on the corner of his mouth, “I didn’t deserve you anyway. I hope you find what you are looking for in her, and she does too.”

Randall nodded and lowered their hands with a faint smile. There was something he should say, he thought, but he didn’t know what. 

Now he was exhausted and drained, feeling it had been a necessary contention to finally move on, move forward. Alone or with Bel, it didn’t matter. It only mattered, that both Lix and he, finally made their peace together.

“Conference in an hour, Mister Brown, don’t forget,” Lix smirked at him, taking her hand away and then left him.

Randall waited till Lix had closed his door behind her, and then he let himself go. Falling on his knees he let the emotions come out, and there he knelt for as long as his breath let him -- crying.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it was important to show Lix and Randall here, and their relationship. How they handle each other while being around. It would have been interesting how a S3 of The Hour would have played out with both of them. Some think they would have gotten back together, but here I explained why I don't think so (and not only I ship Bel/Randall).  
> It was important to wrap up their past and I like the dialog I wrote for them and the way they explain each other. For people not watching the show, Randall and Lix haven (supposedly) not met after he had left Spain after 1938, probably have know about the other as they both work for the BBC, but hadn't met in .. what 20 years?


	25. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel wonders how Randall was when he was young. And if she is a match for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I will probably not post till next Monday/Tuesday, because I am away over the holidays. Just you know.

Randall confessed to Bel in the evening, just when she was about to take off his tie, kissing around his chin line, and her hands tugging at his shirt, “Lix knows.”

Bel’s answer was leaning back, slowly letting the tie slide down from under the collar before she snorted with laughter over his shock stare expression. Apparently he expected her to fall into panic, or to assume that he had told Lix himself.

“It’s Lix,” she began, rolling the tie around her hand and flopped down onto the sofa in his living room. “It was never the question of _if_ , and only the question of _when_. She is not going to tell anyone, is she?”

“No, but it means people will notice earlier or later,” Randall slowly sat aside her.

“Oh, please,” Bel leaned over, “They probably wouldn’t notice when you kiss me in front of them all. It’s Lix; she has an eye for something like that.”

“Freddie?”

“He is too busy with his pregnant wife and his work,” Bel tried to sound indifferent, but it didn’t work much. Not with Randall, but he decided not to touch the topic. “Let’s stick to what we said today. Two months, and on the weekend we go out?”

“As promised,” he smiled at her and held out his hand to get his tie back from her. “Before I forget,” he glanced at the clock, “Turn on the telly. I think there is a movie you would like to watch.”

Bel frowned and stood up to turn it on. It needed a moment before the titles of “North by Northwest” flickered over the monitor, “Finally!”

She gave him a quick kiss, a blanket around her bare feet, and when Randall had changed into more casual clothes, she leaned against him, and together they watched the movie Bel had wanted to see since forever. As he had seen it already, he spent minutes glancing at Bel and caressing her neck and shoulders. It was what he could do the rest of his life.

 

The next day, Lix gave her a meaningful look, not saying anything, just a smirk, before waltzing into her office. Bel groaned in silence, following. She closed the door, and leaned against it, waiting for the older woman to say something, but Lix played busy at the typewriter.

“Oh, come on, Lix!” Bel lost her patience. “I know you know, and now say it!”

“Say what, darling?” she leaned back in her stool, crossing her arms behind her head. She had much fun about it, as it seemed.

“I-,” Lix had no mercy with her, “I am with Randall, I know you know. I didn’t plan it. He is gorgeous, and I won’t stop seeing him only because you have been there first. And yes, I know about that too,” she finished, and slumped down into the wooden armchair in front of her desk, trying to hold the eye contact with Lix.

After a moment, she smiled gently, leaned forward, opened her drawer and pulled out two glasses, and a bottle of whiskey, to place it in front of Bel, “Then this is settled then, yeah? Be so lovely and open the bottle.”

“Is that all you have to say?” Bel reached for the bottle dumbfounded, purring the whiskey into the glasses.

“What do you want me to say?” Lix reached for one of the glasses and sipped from it, making a grimace.

“I don’t know,” Bel exclaimed doing the same with her glass and face. “That it is a stupid idea?”

“It is a stupid idea,” Lix smirked. “You’re both grown-ups.”

 

Bel nipped again from her glass, watching Lix, look at her, unsure if she should say something more. Not that she hadn’t, at least, five more questions or statements, but she feared her answers and missed some guts.

In the end, it was Lix, rolling her eyes in a very exaggerated way, “If you are here, for getting my blessings, then… you have it. Randall and me, that’s now ages. And over. We are done, and he can date whoever he wants. Not that I ever thought, he actually does do dates and foremost not with you but,” she sighed, “You are the best thing, that can happen to this old fool, so, just get one with it! And now get lost! I have a phone call to make,” Lix ushered her with her hand away, a cigarette between her smiling lips, and Bel obeyed, but not without popping her head back in whispering a “Thank you!”

“Get lost I said!”

 

Also, it wasn’t the last talk they had about Randall and the relationship Bel had with him now. Two weeks later, after spending two weekends with Randall away close to Newbury, and having him watched intently in, this time, she found herself wondering over Randall’s past. Or more about the young Randall she never had met, and never would, but Lix had, and Bel was curious about it.

Not that she wanted a young man, that it wasn’t about, she just wanted to know about him, and he was sometimes so reluctant to tell her. Telling her, it made no sense because he wouldn’t turn younger next year but older. 

She tried not to push because she sensed he was afraid of her realizing one day, that this was indeed grey hair, and wrinkles in his face and he was old and lame, and it was difficult to show him she didn’t care when he didn't want to believe her in the first place.

She didn’t care. Randall was a wonderful lover. Fit, good looking and she sometimes could see other women (of each age) glance at him and not because he had this young girl on his arm, but because he was a fine looking chap. 

Most of all she enjoyed the talks they had. He was intelligent, and he had a fine humour she finally started to discover, something she never had found time for in the past. And she never had the feeling that he played the card of patronizing her.

Yet, she wondered if he had been the same when he was her age, and that question only Lix could answer.

 

“Lix?” Bel suddenly asked. 

She had come to her office to get news about the latest reports on the Middle East incident, and Randall had come in too, talking with both of them, how they could position it in the next show. Then he had left them again, and Bel had watched him leave. Finally able to ask Lix the questions that burned in her. “Can I ask you a question?”

Lix shoved her glasses into her hair, looking first at Bel then at the spot where she was looking, finding no one there, “Sure.”

“About Randall?” It got clear to Lix who had moved away from the spot Bel was still looking at. Lix hesitated, and caught Bel’s glance, “You don’t have to answer.”

It was a heavy sigh Lix leaned back into her chair with, which creaked under the pressure. She hadn’t answered questions about Randall for a very long time. The last time to Hector, whom she had lied too, and later to Bel, whom she had told, she not wanted to lie to her too, when asking from where she knew Randall.

That Bel knew about her affair with Randall for a while, what had been her own fault, the alcohol made her sometimes too talkative,  she was aware of. That they - Randall and Bel - had been in a relationship for a while, let her guess that Randall had shared the details of Sofia with Bel.

What was okay, she wasn’t displeased about it. It was the right thing to do, as they all had to work together. Lix was sure he had spared Bel the gruesome details of their fights, back when they were way younger than today, and the moment of his break down when they had found out about Sofia’s death, but Bel clearly knew.

“Oh, darling, just go on,” Lix said with a wave of her hand and took then a drag from her cigarette. “Wondered what took you so long anyway.”

Bel regarded her with a small smile, feeling that Lix was like a unnerved mother sometimes with her. “How was he? When he was younger, I mean. Was he always like this?” it had been one of the central questions in the last weeks been for her.

They had talked about this and that, about him being younger, him doing some jobs as a journalist. Him being in France, and her leaving school and home to find an office and to convince them she could do the job better as a man.

What they never really had been talked about was his time in the Spanish Civil War, and Bel had sensed that not Lix was the crucial point about it, it was the war itself.

Lix smiled, remembering a young, dashing Randall in front of her, “Oh, he was… all the same, but different,” she chuckled, knowing how absurd it sounded. She gave Bel a smirk, “You’ll know what I mean when you reach my age. Here,” she reached over to open a drawer and rummaged through it for a bit, till she found what she had been looking for.

Old photographs. Some taken by her, some taken by others, she had collected. Some were of people; Bel couldn’t know. Some of Lix and — the one Lix was looking for — one of Randall. 

The older woman glanced at the picture with a fond expression before handing it over to Bel. Aside the picture was around 20 years old, it looked like one had taken care of it in the past years. Bel knew, photographers like Lix tended to scatter their pictures everywhere, but usually protected them from harm like greasy fingers or coffee stains. Preserved memories. Hoarded in Lix’s drawer.

A small rectangle, black and white, with a white edge, showing a young man, somewhere in his mid-30s, curly brown hair. The sides trimmed, the top longer, and Bel smirked over it. 

Randall had stuck to his style, the difference only was, he now tamed his curls, what he obviously hadn’t done in the past. A few strands of hair hung from his forehead; the rest did as it liked, giving him a touch of a rebel.

She could imagine him as a boy fighting with his hair, before developing an attitude of ‘I don’t care’ later. Just making sure of keeping them in check by cutting his hair from time to time.

The shirt was worn out, the two top buttons open, no tie, no jacket, and the sleeves rolled up. All so unusual Randall. Sitting at a counter — a bar? — a notepad in front of him, writing, scribbling. The concentration on his face was the same as today, aside there was something at him, that was no more there these days. An easiness. A lightness. She could guess very well why that was so. So many things hadn’t happened yet to him.

On instinct, Bel turned the picture around, to check for a date. A plain 1937 was scribbled down.

“When I remember correctly,” Lix began, “it was taken in the spring of ‘37. We had met earlier, already were involved, but Sofia...” she couldn’t be sure, why she mentioned it, maybe because she saw the same difference between the man on the picture and the man walking around the office at the very moment. They were the same man, but different, and Lix knew if they both never would never been involved, life had played out differently for both of them.

“Yes,” Bel nodded, still fixed with her eyes on the picture. There was no sorrow yet in him. At least not enough to make him the man he would become later.

“He always liked to keep things straight and in order,” Lix went on. “I think it was his way of defying the chaos around him. Being in a war, the most chaotic place one can be in. I am sure you know.”

Bel nodded, remembering when the air raids over London had started — the Blitz. She remembered lively when her parents had pulled her 15-year-old self more than once out of bed, to find safety in one of the many shelters. 

The population got used to it, going by a strict plan when the sirens started to echo through the night, calling to attention that German airplanes came to kill. But there was always chaos. People mingling, running, screaming. Childs crying. Bel remembered how glad she was when her family finally left to the country.

“Yes, I do.”

“The longer we stayed in Spain, the more we drank -- all of us,” Lix chuckled, but her face was filled with sadness. Not everyone made it, not everyone of their group came back. Not only soldiers had died, but also press people. Photographers. Journalists. Guides. “Like a rite, we gathered in this one bar — the only one left in our hotel, drinking. Dancing and drinking, it was the only way to deal with it — at least, that was, what we all thought. In the time we spent there, I am not sure if we were sober for just one evening. I think at some point, everything that made us human, had died. We were rotting inside and didn’t know. But it was the only way to stand up the next day, and go out there, reporting.”

“Lix, you … you don’t have to-”

“-I know,” Lix rose a hand, then fumbled for another cigarette. “You asked about Randall, and I want, to be honest with you, I do not want to tell you just how he is or was. That would be all too easy, wouldn’t it? If you want to understand who Randall is, you have to know what made him. And, I can’t tell you about him and me and Sofia, because I have sworn to myself, I never talk about it again, but, at least, I can tell you about the war,” the older woman paused, staring into the thin air of her office, the smoke of the cigarette circling upwards toward the ventilator. Smoke and Ashes.

“When I met him, he was all shy and restrained but braver. Some sort of. Not a show off of course, but sweet. You can guess, that I was the show-off, lecturing him on an article he was writing. Telling him it made no sense how good it would be written, it would be worthless without a picture,” this time Lix laughed in honest. “I am still not sure if he was impressed or just intimidated by me, but the next day we drove out together. Him writing, and I am taking pictures. We teamed up, and … you can guess the rest.”

Bel grinned, yes she could guess the rest, judging by the picture of the young man. Lix pointed at the picture, “He was quite dashing, wasn’t he?”

“I’d say, he still is,” Bel blushed, and Lix bumped her knee against her leg with a smile.

“His tics became more insistent with the war going on and on, and there were times it was unbearable,” Lix said. “Sometimes I judged him because he wasn’t able to tell me what was the matter. Only years later I realized, he was talking all the time, but not in words. I was listening to the wrong frequency I assume.”

“Lix?”

“Bel, if you want to know from me, if I think you do him good, then yes. You do him good. And no, I am not jealous. I mean, yes I love him, but no more in this way, and you have all my blessings, - like I told you before -  but do me a favour…,” Lix stubbed the cigarette, reaching for a page, putting it into the typewriter in front of her.

“Favour?”

“In case — and I am confident this won’t happen, but just in case, you leave him or otherwise, don’t come and cry on my shoulders, because-”

“-I get it,” Bel held up her two hands. “I won’t, I’ll go to Hector then, fine?”

“I would appreciate it, yes.”

Randall came back to the office across Lix’s, where one of the staff was sitting, but left when Randall came in, leaving one of the chairs askew. 

Like in trance both, Lix and Bel watched Randall pin something at the blackboard, when he glanced first around the room, then catching sight of the askew chair. He walked up to it, placing already a hand onto it when he noticed that the both women were looking at him. 

Unsure what it was about he turned around for a moment, if something was there, then he frowned at them both, looking now at Bel. She could see him swallow, and smile for a brief second before he checked the fit of his tie, and then left the room again.

It reminded Bel that there was a telephone conference soon, and she had to check on some articles before it, “Thanks, Lix.” She held out the photograph to her.

“No need to thank me. You are a bright girl; you would have found out by yourself,” in reflex she reached out for the picture but stopped herself. "Keep it." 

"Are you sure?" Bel asked. 

Lix regarded Bel for a moment, how she looked affectionate at the picture. 

Bel was like a young Lix once was, and Randall was like an older Freddie. How blind, Lix, how blind, she thought. Indeed, this could work out.

"Yes. Keep it," she grabbed then for her glasses and started typing.

“Oh,” Bel stopped then by the doorframe, “What makes you so confident I do him good? He hasn’t really changed has he? People would note if he were more… different, wouldn’t they?”

Lix stopped the typing leaning back again, with a mischievous smile on her lips, “Darling, don’t make the mistake I made. You are listening to the wrong frequency, and because all the others do too, they don’t see or hear anything different.”

Bel was not good with a poker face, and couldn’t hide that she had no clue what Lix tried to point out to her. And as Lix was Lix she caught up on it fast, “Look!” she then pointed toward the other office, Randall had stood moments ago.

Bel turned around, and her eyes hurried through the room, in urge to solve the riddle Lix had given her, “What am I looking for?”

“The chair, darling, the chair,” she only said, and continued typing.

Bel glanced at it, finally understanding. 

The chair was still askew.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely comments and that you still stick around. Not sure how this story has already over 70k words and right now I am writing around the end, and hopefully next week you guys see the end of this story. 
> 
> So long!


	26. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have given each other two months. Randall makes admissions and shares his observations with Bel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, we doing a little time jump here. You get a little insight again into their thoughts and past. We slowly approach the end of this story... and so the little turn in this story I planed.
> 
> I spent the holidays with musing how to go on and how to write it and I am very sure how to do it. We might have 4 to 6 chapters left. Not sure.

Two Months later

They had settled into Randall's bedroom after Bel had him seduced in the living room, having settled on his lap, placing kisses on his face and neck, gently grinding against his crotch till he hadn't been able to restrain himself.

Now she rested in his arms, watching the ceiling, lost in thoughts while Randall trailed his fingertips over her bare shoulders watching her. He enjoyed the slow minutes with her, just them cuddled up in bed after they had made love passionately to each other, everyone hanging after their thoughts and enjoying the company of each other. Usually, Bel lets him caress her, hummed, stretching aside him like a cat and he smirked over it.

He had grown very fond of the times they shared. Of Bel strolling into his office in the evening with a mischievous expression on her lips telling him if he is not going to take her home and kiss her senseless, she might kiss him right here in front of the staff. 

She wouldn't do of course, but he enjoyed to hear that she wanted to be kissed senseless by him.

So he took her home or to his place making up for the times they couldn't share their affection for each other. More as a brief touch they couldn't have while in the office.

Randall shuffled into her lap with his head a book in hand. His curls were loose, and Bel smirked over his appearance ruffling gently through his hair, “I like them like this. I like you like this.“

He glanced up, seeing his curls bustle over his forehead, and in a natural motion he tried to tame them with brushing them toward the back of his head. It only helped for a few seconds. “And why is that so?” he inquired, sensing there was something more to her statement.

Bel tucked at one curl in particular, rolling it around one of her fingers, hesitating about her answer, “Aside it honestly suits you — it makes you look younger actually — it…,” she was unsure if she should tell him. 

Randall closed the book and placed it aside, looking at her curiously, “It?”

When he looked at her like this, over the rim of his thick specs, his face so stern, he could frighten little kids with it, but his eyes kind and amused by her hesitation, she never could deny him anything. 

Huffing she leaned over, toward the nightstand, where her notepad laid. She used to place it there, in case, she had a good idea for the show — natural journalistic habit. Randall had his pocket book on the other side. She reached for it, opening it up, to find the picture of a young Randall, holding it out to him. 

Since Lix had donated it to her, she carried it around all the time. The book was the only safe place, as no one but her was able to look into it, “It reminds me of your younger self. That’s why I also like it.”

With a little hum he took the picture from her, looking at himself for a while, before turning it to read the date. He knew the picture and knew Lix had taken it all those years ago.

“Lix gave it to me.”

He had started wearing his hair slicked back, shortly after he had returned to England, short before he had to leave toward Normandy. Like women used to cut her hair or color them after a chapter in life had closed and a new was about to start, he had somehow decided it was time to get his hair under control. Let alone it was more practical as he used to shove the curls always out of his eyes. It was hard to find a good barber at the front line, and as his hair always grew too fast, and therefore too long so it hung most of the time into his eyes. Pomade used to solve that problem.

"In case you have hope to meet him one day," he gave it back to her with a reluctant smile, “I can’t tell you, if the man in this picture even exists anymore."

Bel watched him fiddle with the book, which laid on his chest while he stared into the nothing of his bedroom. Within short moments, Randall had become all riddlesome again, and she knew by now that there was so much meaning in this sentence. It hadn’t been her intentions.

“I'm aware you tell me very little about your past, Randall,” she began. “And I am okay with it. There was a war, and we all have a past we not want to talk about it, and it doesn’t mean, I want a young Randall Brown because I am sure I could find one, when I just start searching hard and long enough.”

He huffed, and she flicked his ear, shuffling down to lay aside him, staring at the ceiling with him, “I am sometimes just curious, that’s all. It is silly and stupidly romantic, but when I look at the picture, I imagine you sitting in a second class bar, musing over your texts, your next story. 

"I’d give a lot to walk into this bar, observing you. Before all this. Before Lix, before the war, … just before. Not because I want this young Randall, but because I want to know more about you,” she sighed and placed the picture away again. 

Randall laid still aside her, and she was certain he wouldn’t give an answer, because what was there to say? So she went on, “If you want to understand why someone is as they are, you have to look at their past. What made them.”

“And you would tell me, who made you? What made you? When I’d ask?” he turned his head for a moment, to get a better look at her. Her eyes wandered over his features; she was trying to figure him out once again. Then she laughed.

“I tell you a secret, and then you can decide of asking me or not,” she touched her nose with a single finger, shaking her head then. As if the fact she was about to tell him, only now been discovered. “No one ever has asked me that before. What made me. What forced me to choose the way I chose. Who made me. Instead they all …”

“... kept on forming you. Without ever asking,” he pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “Tell me?”

“First in order, probably my mother,” Bel laughed out loud. “You still want to hear that story?”

“Well, Freud said, the most important relationships we have, are the ones with our parents, so it would have surprised me if it wouldn’t be your mother or your father,” he smirked, pointing at the book in his hand. Written by Freud.

“I grew up without a father,” Bel only said. “My mother was too busy looking for the one decent chap, who would give her the life she thought she deserved. A respectable one and a rich one. My father wasn’t that man; you can guess that. She stuck around long enough till the war was over, and then she was tired of living on food stamps and flew off into the night. 

"Since then she never had done anything else. Having five pounds in her savings and not a real place to stay. Just some gallant she knows how to twist around her finger. Seeing her act like this, so devotional and diva like, I knew I couldn’t do it that way. I wanted my own place, my own living, a job so I could support myself. I wanted to choose the men I liked, and not be dependent. Not that it all worked out well.”

After that she fell silent, feeling she had told enough for one evening. Randall guessed, it was of course not only her mother that had formed her. Like it not only was his father, who had formed him, but also the war, the people he had met, the people he had lost. 

So he not pushed forward, just let her muse about whatever she was busy now in her head with. Only after half an hour, he dared to check on her as she was staring at the ceiling since she had stopped talking.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, looking at the ceiling himself - maybe there had been something he had missed till now.

Bel blinked, “Still the past. Not my mother, though.”

“Ah,” he made it sound deliberate.

Bel turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his midriff, looking at him amused, “You know exactly what to do, to make me talk, don't you?“

“I just said ‘ah',” his fingers brushed through her blond hair. “I'd say you're overrating me. “

For a moment she considered him, then she wrinkled her nose a bit, and pressed a kiss to his chest, before resting her head on it. 

They saw each other now for over two months, and it was still surprising how easy it was with him. She had feared it would be all complicated. Because of their age gap, because of his fear she would tell him that it was a mistake and her own fear he would constrict her in her freedom — with words, or just his preferences of how to spend the day and night.

In the beginning, she had believed they were so different and unable to be obliging with the others wishes, that she had seen them lose patience with each other within two weeks, but nothing of it had happened. Sometimes they spent their quality time reading a book or watching a movie. Sometimes he didn’t drove home with her but to the outer rim of the town — for known reasons — to a lovely restaurant, where no one asked questions, and no one looked down at them, and they shared a wonderful dinner, with laughs while holding hands under the table.

At home, he kissed her senseless as she ‘demanded’ in the office, made love to her in the most beautiful ways and day by day she seemed to unwrap the real Randall bit by bit. 

What truly made her fall for him, was, that he let her unwrap him. No fight, no hesitation, no fear. It seemed he had given into her with heart and soul, never giving her the feeling he needed a promise from her to stay forever. Maybe that was because he had been disappointed so often in his life, Bel couldn’t tell. 

Sometimes she found herself watching him while a conference, wondering if it was him who would leave her one day, because of some odd reason like he got bored of her — knowing he never would as it was not him. Yet, the fault clearly her youth, she struggled with such doubts.

“I was just thinking about the past, and the now and how things have played out and,” she dwelled, “and… I was thinking about Hector and-”

“-Hector?” Randall disconnected from the ceiling and frowned at her.

“Yes,” Bel shrugged, not catching on at his quizzical expression, “I wondered for a second, what would have been when I had decided to stay with him.” A dead silence befell the room, and Randall’s hand stopped its movement on her shoulder. Now Bel noticed, coming up on her elbows, reading on his face “You know I had… Oh, god, you didn’t.”

Randall tried to put one and one together, what was hard. He never had the impression that his producer and his anchorman had once been a pair, “Now I know.”

Bel shuffled quickly around, panicking almost, “It was before your time, at the beginning. We… we had a short affaire. Nothing serious. I ended it. Oh, god, I am sorry, I thought you knew.”  She turned, clutching the blanket to her naked front, suddenly feeling afraid and embarrassed. 

For some reason, she had thought Randall had known. Thinking about it a bit longer, there was the question how he could have known. “I swear it was ... ,” she turned back to him, finding him look at her. What was he thinking now of her? Probably the worst. “I am not a-”

Quickly his hand reached out, placing a finger on her mouth, “No, you are not. It’s okay, I wasn’t prepared, that’s all. We all have a past.”

“I shouldn’t have started, I made you angry,” Bel felt like crying.

“No, Bel, you didn’t. I am not delighted, but...,” he made her lay again against his chest, “as you said, it was before my time, and it’s none of my business. How could I have known? Why did you think I knew?”

Bel chuckled, “Because I assume, that Randall Brown knows everything.”

“Now that is overrating of the highest,” he laughed, tucking at her ear. “May I ask a question? You and Freddie, have you…?”

“Yes, I mean no! Just this one kiss I told you about,” Bel felt horrible, knowing what kind of impression Randall must have of her. An affair with Hector, kissing with Freddie and now him. Also, where was the problem? She was tired of justifying her actions, her choices of men. 

Yes, they hadn’t been the best in the past, but it was no one's business except hers. It dosn’t matter how much affection she had for Randall; she wouldn’t allow him to judge her or would start to justify herself in front of him. If he had a problem with it, fine, but he surely hadn’t been a saint either and —

“Stop it,” he shuffled down, making her look at him. “Stop thinking I would care about it. I don’t care with whom you have slept or whom you have kissed in the past. All I am caring about is now. It makes no sense for me to be jealous about the past. A past I haven’t been present, a past that can’t be changed. Who am I to judge, Bel, what makes you think I would?”

“I don’t know,” she pressed against him, her forehead resting against his lips. “Isn’t that what they all do? Men? Judge us women for what we do, for how we feel and who we have slept with? I am so tired of it.”

“And you have all the right, love,” he sighed. “Bel, I had a child with Lix. I have no right to judge you, I never will.”

Bel looked at him, with an expression of disbelief and wonder, “You are so different. So not like the other men. How do you do that?”

Tilting his head a bit, he bit his lower lip for a moment, before he reached between them to take her hands in his, pressing a gentle kiss on top of her fingers, “When you love someone, you realize that accepting is the easiest thing in the world.”

After that, Randall watched with amusement, how her face slowly went through the emotions of confusion, recognition and apprehension. 

Bel leaned slightly back, she had understood every word and was still in question if she hadn’t missed a part, “Uhm…”

Randall inhaled, smiling at her befuddled face, “Do you want me to repeat that last part, or…?”

“Would you?” Bel’s voiced cracked and pitched at the same time.

“I just said, I love you,” he repeated and couldn’t hold back when Bel apparently couldn’t follow his admission. “Like; I know it’s only two months, but I feel very strong for you, and I don’t expect you to answer this, but I wanted you to know, that I love you, very, very much.”

After another minute had passed, Randall felt how ridiculous it all was, but at the same time he found it just so sweet of her, “Okay, how about tea? Can I make tea or something to eat? Another film maybe? Anything that makes you speak again?”

Her mouth distorted into a grimace before she wrinkled her nose and buried her face with a groan into the blanket that laid over his stomach.

“At least, that is an answer, not the one I expected, but-,” her hands came up, being placed over his mouth while she kept her head where it was. Randall kept talking gibberish, having a lot of fun suddenly. As from him predicted, she came up again, pressing against his mouth firmer, and so he finally stopped, only looked at her with high raised eyebrows.

“You think you are incredibly funny, aren’t you?” after he looked at her hands, she took them away.

“No, I am not, because I am only funny twice a year, I told you that.”

“Oh, you are… what do you expect me to say to that?”

“I told you, you don’t have to say anything to it, but if you feel the need to say something; what was the last response you gave to such … such offer?”

She thought about it quickly, finding it was Hector she had told off, literally, “Is that all you have to say?”

“Mh?”

“No, that it was I said, ‘if that is all you have to say’,” she explained.

“Oh,” Randall nodded, hoping it was not what she wanted to say to him. “Who was the lucky one?”

“Hector.”

“Ah!” he just had enough time to absorb the shock of Bel’s fast forward lunging at him with his hands, before she wrapped her hands around his neck, kissing him. He laughed into her mouth, but before she could get any further, Randall reached for her hands and held them close to his chest, before saying, “You still love him, don’t you?”

Bel cranked her head and neck, with a shocked expression back, before she fell into a giggle fit, “I am so not in love with Hector, I think I never really was.”

Randall stayed serious and waited till she had brushed away some tears from the corner of her eyes. She was still breathing heavy and amused, when he corrected, “I mean Freddie.”

The name took the wind out of her joyfulness, and her smile dropped from one moment to the other, staring at Randall in disbelieve, almost anger, “What?”

“Freddie,” he felt her slowly take away her hands out of his. “You still love him don’t you?”

If it had been her home, she would have went straight to the kitchen, but so she only settled into a sitting position, and brought the pillow in front of her, “Why do you say that? What’s the purpose?” she felt confused, shoved then the pillow away, and reached for her panties and a shirt of his, that hung over a stool.

Randall knew she was angry now, and if he wasn’t careful, it was possible that he was about to ruin something. As he did not want to press to business, he waited till she had buttoned up the shirt.

“You said it because I didn’t give you the right answer, did you?” she huffed, unable to look at him longer as a few moments.

Randall jumped out of the bed, reaching for a pair of boxers and an undershirt, “That’s not true.”

“How can you say it then? I … we are together aren’t we?” crossing her arms in front of her she turned away from him. Maybe she should leave for today.

“You haven’t said no,” it was a stupid thing to say, Randall knew it, but for a stupid reason, it had burned on his tongue. It made her swirl around and glare at him. He was right, but he had no right.

“I think I leave for today.”

“Please,” he lunged forward, reaching for her arms, “it’s not how I meant it. Let me try to explain,” she nodded at him, “I see it in your eyes when we are in the office. You love him.”

“I wouldn’t be with you when I -”

“- You love him like I still love Lix.”

For the fraction of a second Bel was about to just leave, and then she understood. What he was trying to say, and about what Randall had seen in the office. 

The way Bel looked at Freddie when she thought no one was looking. It was true, every word, she loved Freddie. She always had, and always would. Freddie Lyon was her friend, her best friend. They never had slept together, had shared just one kiss but had loved each other dearly.

And Randall? God, he had such history with Lix, and naturally he had feelings for her. The woman had given birth to his daughter; he never had met.

Bel sighed, shaking her head, realizing how egoistic she had been, how blind — on purpose. She had not wanted to see it. While she had thought about her past and about what could have been, she never had thought about his past and what could have been. With that thought, the table suddenly turned, “If… just if, Sofia would have still been alive, would you have returned to Lix?”

There was no chance that he could lie to Bel, and they both knew the answer already, “I am not going to answer this question, because it is about ‘what if’ and it makes no sense. I love you, Bel Rowley. I want to be with you. And my initial agenda of why I started this conversation was, to know if you can see a future with me. I am not talking about marriage, just about a future, because if yes, we have to make decisions. How we live this will not work forever. People will find out.”

“What has this all to do, with Freddie or Lix?” Bel called out.

“I love Lix, for reasons, but not like I love you. I can see you love Freddie, but aside I said, you love him like I love Lix, I am not sure,” he reached for the blanket from the bed, stepped up to her and laid it around her shoulders. “Sometimes I am afraid, you … you love him too much to stay with me. Even he doesn’t love you enough. You haven’t let go of him yet; I can feel it.”

Tears ran down Bel’s cheek, and it broke Randall’s heart to see her like that, so he quickly gathered one corner of the bedsheet and gently dabbed away the tears, “Why are you like this? You should send me away because the only thing I am doing is hurting you.”

“Send you away?” Randall took her face in his hands. “Nonsense. Hurting me? Double nonsense. You make me so happy; I can't express it with words, Bel.”

“But Freddie,” she slipped her arms around him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I know how it is. I know how it is, to be with someone, you care and feel love for, and at the same time, you have someone else too in your heart. It’s a struggle, but one you have to go through,” he held Bel close while she sobbed into his chest, remembering how he had felt years after he had left Lix, in search for a new partner, a new love. 

He knew the struggle very well. He had fought it for twenty years, and it had needed Lix’s cold shoulder, Sofia’s death and most of all Bel, to let him win.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your reads, all the lovely comments, and stay tuned!!!


	27. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things change in a blink. When we are not looking, or not listening. In a second. That's the way life goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought this will be now "happily ever after"? No, you didn't because you came for the slow burn, and stayed for the drama, I know you guys... so lets get the curtain up, and start the last act!

The same night

The ringing of the phone let Bel startle awake in the middle of the night, while it made Randall only stir in his sleep. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 2 o’clock in the morning and she sensed this must be an important phone call. Quickly hopping out of the bed, she went to the phone in the other room.

“Hello?” she answered groggily, hoping it was not someone telling her, that her anchorman was found dead drunk in a club.

“Bel!” it was Freddie, and the way he called out her name, she immediately knew something had happened.

“Freddie! What is it?”

“It’s the baby! Camille,” his voice cracked. “I am in the hospital. Something is not right!”

“Calm down! What hospital are you?”

“The Memorial,” he gasped. “God, there was blood. Bel! I don’t know-”

“-Freddie, calm down, okay! I am on my way. Just stay there!” Bel nervously glanced around the room.

“Yes, okay, please hurry!”

She slammed the receiver down, finding Randall stand by the door, wrinkled lines across his forehead, “What is it?”

“I am not sure, but I think Camille is about to lose the baby,” Bel explained. “Freddie… he sounded totally hysterical. Freddie is never hysterical… God, I need to go to the hospital," she brushed through her hair absently.

“Of course,” Randall reached for her clothes and held them out to her. “Get dressed; I’ll drive you.”

“I am so sorry,” Bel didn’t know what to think. She didn't want to involve Randall with her old flame, still feeling guilty after Randall had told her he knew she was still in love with Freddie.

“It’s not your fault,” he stepped up to her, stroking her face. “Get dressed now.”

She gave him a soft smile, before pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, unaware that this dream was about to become a nightmare.

In fast time, she threw over black trousers, a white blouse, and a dark jumper while Randall dressed into part of his suit, but instead of his jacket, he slipped over a jumper he had once left at Bel’s place, letting the tie show at the collar. 

While Bel tied her hair into a plain ponytail, he checked his appearance in the mirror. A slight shadow had grown already in his face, and his hair was slightly ruffled, but hence the time at night, he could live with it. He had to.

Then Bel grabbed her coat and followed Randall down to the car. The drive to the hospital happened quickly; the streets were empty, but Randall noticed it was not quick enough for Bel, who fiddled nervously with her coat or drummed with her fingers against the door.

“I am sure everything will be alright, Bel,” he tried to distract her, knowing it probably wouldn’t work. “The Memorial is a good hospital.”

“You haven’t heard him, Randall,” Bel huffed, worried to the end. “He said there was blood. And you know Freddie; he is no one who loses his nerve quickly.”

“Yes,” he let the car roll onto the parking ground, killing the engine. “Now go, I’ll wait here.”

Bel was almost out of the car when his words reached her, “What?”

“Bel, we can’t…,”he pointed at him, hinting at his and her appearance.

“I don’t care,” Bel went around the car and opened his door. “Freddie might needs me, but I need you, and I don’t care what he or the others might think.”

Unsure Randall shuffled in his seat, but Bel didn’t let him hesitate any longer, reaching for his hand, and so he jumped out of the car and followed her into the A&E.

They needed another ten minutes to convince the nurse to tell them where Freddie and his wife were, and it almost came to an argument when the nurse tried to tell Bel that she and her father had to wait.

While Randall only rolled his eyes and gave the woman a glare, Bel leaned over the counter, snapping at the woman, “First of all; it’s my boyfriend and second; -”

“-Bel!” it was Freddie who just stepped out of the lift, about to look for her. “God, there you are!”

They ran toward each other and gave each other a quick hug. Freddie was clearly in a state of sorrow and hysteria. He was wearing a white shirt that wasn’t buttoned up, and an old jumper he had thrown over in the hectic while waiting for the ambulance. His hair was wild and his eyes glassy, wearing the oldest boots he possessed.

“We came as fast as we could,” Bel explained, pointing quickly at Randall, who still stood by the counter.

“Mister Brown?” Freddies eyes darted between him and Bel, but it was too late at night, he was too tired and agitated to connect the dots and when Bel said, “I’ll explain later. What is with Camille and the baby?” he forgot about it and waved them with him.

“She is in surgery at the moment, they should be finished already, but I haven’t heard anything yet,” Freddie explained, brushing through his hair, again and again, waiting for the lift to arrive at the third floor where the maternity station was. 

“We went to bed at ten or something, and at one she woke up with stomach pain, and I joked it probably was the ice cream she had before we went to bed,” there he gave Randall a desperate smile. “She went to the bathroom and then there was blood. I called an ambulance and later you.”

They had reached the waiting zone by now and Bel tried to urge him to sit down, but Freddie was all distressed and paced up and down, while Randall stood there, watching the scenery, “I’ll get us some tea.”

Bel nodded and watched him leave down the floor toward the counter to ask where he could get some tea.

Freddie suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned toward Bel, “I am afraid, Bel. I am so afraid. The baby. She was so happy and now… I don’t know what is when-”

“-Don’t Freddie! Don’t think of it,” Bel reached for his hands, hoping it would have a calming effect on him. “I am sure they will do everything they can.”

With that, Freddie pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck, quietly sobbing. 

It was the moment Randall returned with three paper mugs of tea. He pursed his lips at the sight, lowering his gaze when Bel caught his glances and then gestured at the tea he placed down on a table before he turned around toward the blackboard.

“Drink some tea, Freddie,” Bel gently tapped at his back, so he would release her again. “It will calm you down.”

“Yes, yes,” he finally sat down, “I am so glad you came.”

“Of course I did, you are my friend,” Bel placed one hand over his. “You would do the same for me.”

Freddie sniffed and nodded, while sipping from his tea, staring into thin air. His mind was racing and empty at the same time.

Randall could feel with him, knowing how it felt to be in an unclear situation — most people knew. He rubbed his eyes, drank his tea, and tried to concentrate on Bel, what was not easy, as she was heavily focusing on Freddie, holding his hand, whispering calming words to him.

Then suddenly Freddie raised his head, looking straight at Randall, who could see that his eyes were wandering over his appearance. A calm moment was all the young man would need to put one and one together. Randall had foreseen it already in the car, what had been the reason he had not wanted to come inside.

Freddie then looked at Bel, and also took in her looks. Bel needed longer to realize that Freddie was about to find out about her and Randall. She leaned back, sharing a short look with Randall, when Freddie began, “Are you…?”

Randall shuffled on the spot, before deciding to approach the topic openly, “Mister-,” a Doctor appeared at the end of the floor, and Randall knew it must be the one who had taken care of Camille.

Freddie and Bel followed Randall’s stare, and jumped up, trying to read in the facial expression of the Doctor.

“Doctor?” Freddie stepped forward. Randall stepped toward the group but kept a little distance. It was a circle he didn’t saw himself in.

The physician nodded to all of them, “Mister Lyon, your wife is well. Exhausted but well.”

“The baby?” he pressed. “What is with the baby?”

“I am sorry….,” Freddie burst into tears. “There was nothing we could do.”

“No!” he turned to Bel and fell into her arms.

The Doctor felt uncomfortable, and Randall stepped up to him, asking what they had to do if there were any papers they had to take care of and when Freddie could see his wife. 

It was the only role he could play at the moment, while Bel played the role of the caring friend, holding the mess that Freddie was in her arms.

 

They let Freddie go to his wife, and Randall and Bel decided to wait outside for the moment, to give the couple room and time for a talk.

Bel felt horrible and sad, leaning exhausted against a wall. As unhappy she had been to hear about Freddie becoming a father, at first, she had gotten used to it, and had felt happy for him. Now, the happy future had fallen into shatters.

Randall stood away from her, watching silently how worries and many questions fleeted over her face and started to settled down on her.

For a long moment, he hoped she would raise her head, to look at him, to see him stand there waiting for a reaction from her. In his tired mind, he hoped for her to smile at him, holding out her hand, to tell him, that it was, yes, a horrible night, but she was with him. 

That she loved him too, that they would wait till the situation was clear. Till Camille was able to leave the hospital again, and then they would talk with Freddie and the others. About their relationship. Make it open. Instead, she kept staring into thin air, pondering over all those questions in her head. A new situation now.

Instead of walking over to her, take her hand, and just kiss her, to make her aware of him, Randall kept standing there, slowly being eaten up by his own fear, and by a certainty that now everything that had been, was going to be worthless because the pack was now reshuffled. And every second with Bel not looking at him, he felt them disconnect.

After a minute or so he couldn’t take it anymore and turned around on his heels, slowly walking down the floor. Considering the situation. Telling himself it was too late at night — or too early in the morning, and he was out of his mind, and should better stop worrying.

Bel heard his shoes creak on the floor, looking up, only to see him walk away. Her first instinct was to follow him, but by now she sensed he needed a moment by himself. His posture betrayed him, his hands in his pockets and no turning around.

A few hours ago he had told her that he was in love with her and because she was young and stupid she hadn’t been able to tell him the same. By now she felt ridiculous for it.

Hadn’t she been the one telling him, there were no guarantees in life? So what did she wait for? What did she want more, as a man, who seemed to be in love with her head over heels and who was in every way perfect?

Then she heard Randall’s voice in her head, telling her she was still in love with Freddie, and with the new situation there was a seed in her head planted, and Bel was unable to tell, if she was able to stop the idea from growing.

Her heart was chaos. It hurt while it was singing with joy. And while she looked at Randall walking away from her she only wished he hadn’t stepped away from her — even it was only the darn clinic hall. 

Wished he had come over, to take her hand, to reassure her they would be fine, that he had trust in her feelings for him. 

Maybe not in words, because Randall was in his private life not always a man of words, but with a kiss, a hug, a gesture. Instead, it seemed he was parting away from her because of all this.

It was all too stupid, she thought, and was close to follow him, when the door opened again and Freddie stepped out, “She is okay.”

Randall returned, seeing Freddie ushering Bel inside and the only thing he could do was following toward the door, but kept standing outside, just glancing through the window that allowed him to see Camille lay in bed exhausted.

When the French girl spotted him, he gave her a short nod, and when she nodded back, he lowered his gaze, waiting patiently for Bel and Freddie to come outside.

They all stayed till the morning in the hospital, then Bel and Randall had to return home, so they could change and dress for the day at the office, and Freddie needed some sleep and rest too. 

Camille had gotten some pills so she would sleep in the morning, so there was no harm when he would go home to sleep and change clothes. He would be back at the hospital before the noon, he promised.

In the newsroom, the news spread quickly, followed by general dismay. They all were shocked to hear about Freddie’s and Camille's loss, but glad she was well and would recover.

Camille was allowed to leave the hospital the next day. The doctors said it had been a natural abortion. Aside Camille was young and healthy, they said, something like that could happen. She would be able to have children in the future, and they shouldn’t be discouraged.

Nevertheless, the young woman was devastated and to take care of her Freddie took some off time.

Bel visited them twice at home, and Camille was glad to see her, “I know it is hard for you to come here.”

“It isn’t, Camille,” Bel assured. “It’s important not to be alone at this time.”

“I know,” Camille agreed, making some tea for them. Freddie had left when Bel had arrived, taking the chance to get some fresh air and also to run some errands. “I know you don’t like me.”

“Don’t like you? Camille…,” Bel was shocked by her words.

The French woman smiled gently at her, “Be honest; you weren’t happy to meet me at the beginning,” and when Bel struggled for words, Camille added, “I know you love Freddie. I am not blind.”

“We know each other very long and we are close, but you have to believe me, I …,” Bel remembered Randall's words again. “I love him, yes, but as a friend. Believe me; I have no intentions. Aside I,” she laughed about it, “I’m involved with someone.”

“Mister Brown?” Camille inquired, already having put one and one together.

"Yes," Again Bel was surprised by her. “How?”

“I saw you in the hospital,” she shrugged, smirking over Bel’s astonished look. The French always saw a bit more when it came to love. “It was very evident. The way Mister Brown looks at you… I wish Freddie would look at me like this.”

There was an underlying sadness written in Camille’s face, what made Bel listen up. The last part wasn’t just said in a joke, “What do you mean?”

“Freddie is unhappy,” she began, “and I don’t mean because of the baby. I believe he thinks it’s my fault.”

“What? No, Camille, I am sure he doesn’t think that!” Bel was horrified to hear such thing. Imagine Freddie being like this let her shudder. “It’s nobody's fault, it was a sad and unhappy incident. The doctor’s said it sometimes happens and can happen to every woman.”

“Bel, I know that, and aside I feel sad and empty and very tired, I know it’s not my fault, nor anyone else,” Camille sighed and reached for a cigarette. Able to smoke again, she inhaled deep, “Freddie never looks at me like Mister Brown looks at you, but he looks at you like this.”

“I am sure he doesn’t,” Bel answered without even thinking about it because deep inside she knew it was better not to think about it. As there was a dying fire, that didn’t need new fuel, and Camille was about to deliver such fuel without knowing. “Freddie loves you. I mean he has married you and he was so happy when he found out about the baby, and…,” Bel got overwhelmed. 

By Freddies lose, by Camille’s suggestion Freddie was more in love with her instead his wife, by the memory of him kissing her and of him never addressing it.

Within a few minutes, Bel’s heart was beating hard and fast and didn’t know how to deal with all of it. Covering her, face for a moment, she stood up, to dap away some tears that had formed in her eyes.

“I know he cares about me, and loves me — somehow,” Camille stirred her tea absently, watching Bel struggle to retain her composure, “But he loves you more. And he is very jealous of you and Mister Brown.”

“Jealous? We didn’t even talk about it yet,” Bel exclaimed. That was so typical Freddie. That was them — all the time. So much unsaid words that cut into the others flesh like knives.

She had wanted to talk to him about her relationship with Randall, but as he wasn’t in the office it was hard, and every time she came over they had little time with each other — what she now recognized as denial. He knew she would talk to him about it, and as he not wanted to hear it, he blocked her out.

“I’ll go back to Paris, Bel,” Camille spoke on, finding the blonde stare at her with wide open eyes. “I have to.”

“Camille!” Bel didn’t know what to say. “You can’t!”

Camille chuckled, “Either I leave him, or he leaves me, that’s how it will be. I’ve left him already once, but then I got the call of him in the hospital.” She remembered getting the call, finding herself in shock and unsure what to do. Her heart had told her not to go, but her head had reminded her about the vow she had given to him, and so she had stepped into the next train back to London. “I thought we could do it, go back together and for a while, it looked like it could work out. I got pregnant, and Freddie was so happy and excited, but now… no, I’ll talk with him tonight.”

Bel was close to asking for some alcohol, to soften the news. 

When Camille would leave Freddie, this would change everything. Not that it hadn’t already.

It would change Freddie and would change Bel and their dynamic again. Camille leaving would be like a stone thrown into the water, causing ripples. Little ones that quickly could become tidal waves.

 

And so it happened. A week later Freddie showed up at work again, a grim face, but aside that he looked relaxed. Bel knew in an instant; Camille had stuck to her word.

They hadn’t talked with each other much after her second visit. She hadn’t visited again and Freddie hadn’t called her in the office or anything, except for telling her he would show up for work again.

Randall had watched Bel being nervous and on edge all week, afraid to address the problem. He knew very well that it had to do with Freddie, and when he saw Freddie in the morning without a ring on his finger, it was evident to him; his wife had left him. It wasn’t a surprise.

With that news Randall became uneasy, and he found himself looking at Bel’s and Freddie’s interaction intensely.

It were now almost two months since Bel had told him they should wait that time and then decide. So Freddie being now a free man again came to the worst time possible in Randall’s eyes.

Not enough, he saw Freddie slowly unbend with Bel. He found her sitting at his desk, and chat with him lightly about some news topics, and he saw the young man smiling at her in a way he used to smile at her in the past. With affection and deep friendship, that could turn into deep feelings quickly.

It pained his heart, and so Randall was unable to act, aside he knew he should act. To go to Bel and ask her if something had changed, instead, he kept quiet and played the indifferent. 

He was already working on disconnecting from her because he was convinced she would leave him sooner or later. Coming to his office, telling him it was over, now with Freddie being free again, and her feelings new sparked off for the boy.

Randall was already trying to heal the wounds that not even existed at that time. That was him, doing the wrong thing, and he couldn’t not do it. It was like a self-destruction inside of him, set off in a silly little moment, because Bel had looked at him too late.

He wasn’t worth enough for Bel, he thought, he never had been for anyone.

 

And Bel? Bel saw him shuffle away when she tried to place her hands on his when taking some papers from his hand, a low intimacy they always had allowed each other in the office. 

She felt confused by his actions, when telling her he only would drop her off at home, before driving to his place, saying it had been a long day, and he needed to rest and take care of something.

She didn’t question him because it was true, the days were long, and it was reasonable to get some sleep and then there was Freddie requisitioning her.

Now with him being alone again, he searched her near, her advice as her support, being helpless as he always had been. And because Bel was Bel, and Freddie her friend, she thought it would help him if she kept his mind busy, away from sorrow and grief, and invited him over for a quick dinner or just a movie and she had to admit she liked how he joked with her again in the office. 

They quarreled like in the good old times, and he popped into her office with a drink in hand, followed by Lix, who always was good for a drink and Hector who never got tired of teasing Freddie about the next show and who could do it better.

Not once in that time Randall came by, joining them, and Bel felt sorry and guilty — mostly for herself. Every time she showed up in his office, asking him if he would like to join them downstairs in the bar, they sometimes gathered, he declined. Telling her she should go, have some fun. They would see each other later. Maybe.

She had seen his face in the hospital, and saw him looking at Freddie and her, but she didn’t know what to do more, as to show him she wanted to be with him. What was hard, noticing the fact, that Randall was unable to listen and keeping his distance to her.

Hoping it was only temporary trouble, Bel thought having patience would soon bring peace and would make clear to Randall that she wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Sometimes she caught Lix staring at her, after a drink or two, frowning, but she never dared to ask the older woman what it was about. And when she was about to do so, Lix blinked and the expression on her face was gone.

Lix Storm had given herself a good advice, not getting involved in Bel’s and Randall’s relationship. She cared about both of them, but it was no good. They had to deal with it alone.

Randall had to deal with it alone. He never would take her advice, and it was more than once she was close to walking up to him, grabbing him by the arm to simply tell him, “Don’t! Just don’t!”

Mostly when she saw him stand there, with his mind racing. The plans in his head going haywire. Probably thinking where the farthest political hot spot was, and how fast he was able to run there.

In the end, Lix didn’t, because the only thing he would do was stepping away from her, sorting some books, or rearrange the elephants on his desk. She had already noticed the thumbtacks being put into order at the blackboard and the letters in some compartments were sorted by size. It was devastating to look at.

Lix loved Bel, but when the younger woman wanted to have a future with Randall she had to learn to listen to the damn frequency by her own, because a Randall Brown never ever would change. The man wouldn’t just come to Bel, telling her about his concerns and worries. Not when they had been engraved so deep already.

The man was a mess, always had been, and she had her fair share in it, as he had his fair share in making her a mess. That was life, so it went. People made people. Plus a war, plus a lost child and many missed chances.

The truth was, they were all listening to the wrong frequency, without knowing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this going to end well? Hm... who can say? 
> 
> Today I read on tumblr, that if we had one proper talk we would be saved like three chapters of angst, and someone replied "but where is the fun in it?!" and to be honest, sometimes life is shit like this. People are stupid and weird and frightened and words are complicated and feelings are and everybody is talking but not to each other and it's true, sometimes there are frequencies we not able to hear or we can but we are too busy or not want to see it.   
> People sometimes don't talk, they make stupid decisions because the heart and the head never really work the same way.


	28. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is now a free man again. Randall is in doubt and Bel busy holding the Hour and in her believe also Freddie together. Assumptions are made. Lies are told and decisions made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit shorter but I think it's fine the way it is.

Freddie couldn’t be sure. There were days he was sure, and the next he wasn’t anymore. He had seen Bel and Randall in the hospital. Seeing their appearance. Together, in the middle of the night, what did that tell him?

Probably what would it tell everybody. Then again, he had been tired and overwhelmed and foremost not in his best form. So, when he returned to work, he kept an eye on Randall Brown and of course on Bel.

His problem was, he never had thought about it before, and therefore never had watched them together. It angered him that if it was so, them being in a relationship, that he hadn’t caught up on it. Him, who always had a good nose for something others didn't see.

To his excuse, he had been busy. The baby. His excitement. Himself trying to tell him, this child would heal all extremes between Camille and him. Plus the job. It was fair to miss something like that. Wasn’t it?

He made it good again with watching them intently, what was easy, because they barely spent time together in the office.

And when, Randall seemed indifferent, cold. His usual self. The restrained, strict Head of News he always had been.

Bel, being her joyful, sometimes stressed self, regarding him with the usual looks. An expression of curiosity and confusion.

Them being together?

No one could hide real affection, it doesn’t mattered how much one would try. He had been the best example. The others had known about his feelings for Bel. Hector and Lix had. People would know, and talk about it already, when Randall and Bel would be in a relationship. Wouldn’t they?

He tried to listen out Isaac and Sall — very carefully of course, but there was nothing he could gather about the topic.

With the days passing he got bolder, asking Bel for a dinner, knowing she always had something left in the fridge for him, or a drink in her office. Bothered her almost, but quickly he felt back at home again.

Them sharing little jokes, that were silly to the end — like in the old times, short before The Hour had been created.

They hung around in the bar, not far from the office, all of them — except Randall. What was no surprise, because Randall was Randall and no one seemed to miss him. Not even Bel.

On one or two occasions he asked her about him, but nothing directly, believing she would tell him if there was something serious, and as it seemed to him, there was nothing.

Probably a fling. What pained a little in his heart. Was Randall Brown a man for a fling?

Still waters run deep, he thought and didn’t care thinking about it for too long.

Maybe it had been nothing that night, just Bel calling for Randall, who had a car, and she hadn’t.

There were a lot of possibilities and in the end, he made the decision to be a little bolder and knocked at Randall’s office door to be called inside after a moment.

Randall was surprised to see Freddie, but he veiled himself by keeping writing what he was writing, “Mister Lyon! How can I help you?”

Freddie dwelled a bit on the spot, so unusual to him as he was always a brave person. Never shy of asking the real questions, the uncomfortable ones. This time the matter was a bit more sensitive. _He_ tried to be a bit more sensitive. For his own sake and Randall’s and of course, for Bel.

“Mister Brown,” he began, waiting till the man had placed the pen aside, looking at him awaiting, “I need to ask a question.”

“Yes?”

Shoving one hand into his pocket, Freddie started to walk slowly around in the office, regarding the books in the shelves, “You know I am one for being forward, so I not want to talk around it for too long,” he turned to him, regarding him one last moment before he said, “I know it’s bold, and I am sorry, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, but I need to know, if you are in a relationship with Miss Rowley.”

Randall was glad he had placed the pen aside early, because he was sure he would have dropped it in shock, the moment Freddie had asked. He blinked, his head doing a fine tilt, being able to veil his shock letting it look like utter surprise — what it was actually.

“That’s some sort of a question, Mister Lyon.”

“It is,” Freddie replied, his eyes like the one of a wild animal, waiting for his prey to make a mistake.

For a moment Randall glanced to somewhere else in the room, before landing back at the young man, “And why you ask me this, Mister Lyon?”

“As you know,” Freddie inhaled, not willing to tell it, but seeing the necessaries, “my soon to be ex-wife left me. She went back to France, and I am not proud of it, but I came to the conclusion this relationship has been a mistake. My heart lays somewhere else. And I need to know if you are, because I am planning on asking Bel to marry me.”

“Ah,” it slipped Randall. “I see.”

So many moments. Failed. Missed. Filled up with mistakes and wrong assumptions.

“Well, Mister Lyon, what a surprise,” his hand reached for the pen again, to keep it away from fiddling his glasses and the tie.

“Yes,” Freddie smiled down to the floor, now having revealed his plan almost giving him some peace. Randall’s reaction was curt, not that he had expected anything else, but he expected any man who would be with Bel to stand up in that moment to tell Freddie were his real place was. “We are friends forever, I am sure you know. It’s something I should have done long ago I think.”

Randall considered Freddie. A dashing young man, exceptional journalist. Clever. Witty, fearless and he was sure he would hear about him in the future. He cared deeply about Bel, it never had been a secret to him, even after he had made the open mistake of marrying the French girl. The man Bel deserved? A man her age, definitely.

“And do you worry?” Freddie glanced at him, biting his thumb. “About asking her?”

“It’s nothing one does lightly, isn’t it?” he grinned, he had experience, and only could guess if Randall ever had asked a woman the same question. “Sometimes I think, if I had been sure, I had asked her earlier. Before…”

Feeling a pain in his chest, Randall knew he had to get rid of Freddie, “I don’t think you have to worry, Mister Lyon. I am very consistent, that Miss Rowley’s heart always has been with just one person, and always will be. With you.”

“You say?”

“Of course,” he answered quickly, giving Freddie a thin smile. “I am very certain; she will say yes.”

Freddie hadn’t been aware he was holding his breath, till it escaped his lungs, “I hope that too.”

Awkward silence rose then, and Freddie nodded a few times viciously to himself, “That’s settled then. I am sorry I bothered you. After the night in the hospital I assumed, — of course not, stupid of me to think. Again, I am sorry.”

For the fraction of a second, Randall was about to break, but gripped his upper thigh so hard with his fingers that he found his demeanor again quickly, “There is no need to apologize. I am sure we all we find out quickly how it went, don’t we? When do you going to pop the question, when I may ask?”

“Uhm, not sure,” Freddie brushed through his hair. “Better don't wait too long. Tonight would be good. Or tomorrow. But tomorrow is the show, not want to push Bel of the track. Shownight is always a busy and important day for her.”

“Yes, yes,” touching his nose, he nodded and returned to his writing again. Freddie nodded once more, and then left him alone, with a “See you later.”.

When the door had closed, Randall fell back into the rest of his stool suddenly feeling as if he was unable to get air. He needed to tug wildly at his tie, to get it off. Breathing heavily, on the brink of sobbing and getting a panic attack. He had to hold himself together. It only would lead to an outfall, like after Lix had told him about Sofia's death. He would attract attention and he not wanted that. Slowly he tried to get his breathing under control. In and out. In. Out.

Numb. He was numb and lost. Hurt. And so alone. His heart was aching. 

Freddie would ask Bel to marry him, and there was no doubt in him, she would say yes. They hadn’t seen much of each other in the last two weeks, and neither her nor him had tried to change something about it. And now it seemed to late. He couldn’t go after the boy telling him he had no right to ask her, because she was with him. Was she?

He had deduced it himself. Bel was in love with Freddie, still. So there was no right making any demands. It wasn’t him anyway.

Doing his tie again, he glanced at the clock. It was early, not even noon. When he would hurry a bit he could be gone before anyone would notice.

Quickly he settled down at his desk and grabbed a blank page, starting to write a letter. For the upper floors of the BBC.

A short, not saying too much letter that there was a family crisis. He had to leave and would get in contact within a couple of days when he had sorted through the matter.

Then in a few days, he would send a letter, resigning from his position. Never to be seen again in the rooms of The Hour.

He sealed the letter and asked Sally over the phone to come to him.

While he waited, he got his coat on and packed his briefcase. He would send someone packing his other stuff later. The books mostly, he had nothing too personal at the office.

Then it knocked, but instead of Sally it was Bel, popping her head in, seeing him stand there, all dressed, “Randall? Where are you going? Something happened?”

For a moment he was stunned, unable to move, and then Sally appeared too, and he gave both of them a fake smile, “Sally, would you take this letter and take care of it?” he held the envelope out and Sally took it.

Bel was able to catch a glimpse, reading the three prominent letters of BBC on it. Not thinking of it much.

When Sally had vanished again, he stepped up to Bel, holding his bag in front of him, “I have to go to the upper floors. They told me they needed to discuss some contracts again, short notice.”

“Oh,” she nodded, not sure what to think of it. Already thinking about the meeting they usually always had after lunch. The important one, always one day before the show, “Shall we postpone the editorial conference then?”

“No, no,” he wavered with his hat in hand. “You’ll manage, I am sure. The topics are set, and Hector and Freddie have it all under control. Lix told me this time the film material was on time. You don’t have too.”

“Okay,” Bel glanced at him. Aware she missed him. Missed him being around at her place, craved the comfort times they had. The talks. The drives. Them being together. “It was a hell of a time the last weeks, wasn’t it?” she then began, hoping to find a quick drift toward what she wanted to tell him. That they should have dinner tonight. Just them. Rekindle what had been neglected for the past days.

“It was. Anyway,” Randall heard someone call Bel’s name, and heard her groan, “I got to go.”

“Yes, sure,” she gave him a sad smile, hoping he would tell her he would be back soon. Or visit her at her place later, and indeed he turned once again, giving her a gentle smile. The one she liked so much, giving him a gentle expression.

“Oh, before I forget, Bel,” he wasn’t worthy of her, because he was the one who wrecked it all, “when Freddie asks, you can say yes. Not that I want to tell you what to do, but it’s fine for me.”

Bel frowned, “Oh, God, what does he want? More money? No, he wants more airing time, right? What is it?” She so not wanted to deal with such thing.

“Don't worry. I don’t want to ruin the surprise for you,” he gave it a soft sigh, “just you know, I accept your Yes.”

Again, someone called her name, this time, he was sure it was Isaac and Hector at the same time. And so Bel turned away from him, not allowing him anymore to look at her beautiful face.

“God Christ, this is a madhouse!” she laughed, reaching out to touch his arm for a moment, but stopped midair. “Good luck at the BBC, I’ll see you later!”

He watched her hurry down the floor to the conference room before he turned around for one last moment.

Not that he would miss it. He would miss her. He already did, but there was nothing in him, that made him stand up for his heart because where was the reason?

Randall would have been able to make Lix stay with him. Right as he had told her. He would be able to make Bel stay with him, but that’s not what he wanted.

Telling a woman who he loved dearly, to stay with him, aside she was so in love with Freddie. A bird with clipped wings, and that was the reason he closed the door, walked to the lift, to leave The Hour, London and this now old life behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't leave me after this!  
> You all know something like that had to happen, yeah? 
> 
> Stay tuned, I was able to write the last chapters for this story, and I plan to publish the last chapters over the weekend and the last part on Sunday!


	29. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is making his move. How will Bel react? Now that Randall is gone, it would be easy to say yes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crescendo!! More or less! ;)

“Is Mister Brown back yet?” Bel stopped by Sissy’s office asking her. It was already after five, and she had assumed Randall would show up again after leaving the higher floors of the BBC.

It wouldn’t be his natural behaviour. Not one evening before the show, when everything was in uproar and going totally nuts. Not after missing the editorial conference. Randall never had missed one before, and she was sure he would come back in, asking if there were any news.

“No, Miss Rowley,” Sissy shrugged helplessly. “Shall I call him?”

Bel thought about it, “Call the BBC, ask them if they are still in the meeting with him, or if they know if he has left already. I don’t think he is gone home, that’s not him.”

“I will,” Sissy nodded and grabbed the phone while Bel wandered back to her office, finding Freddie there fiddling with the radio on the window sill.

“What are you doing?” she grinned at him, not being bothered anymore that he invaded her office space just like that.

“I was in the mood for some music, that is all,” he kept spinning the little wheel, till he found some station that played music. With a happy smile he turned to Bel, “And what is with you? You seem a bit tense?”

“It’s nothing,” she slumped into her chair. “I'm waiting for Randall to return, to discuss the editorial conference.”

“Why wasn’t he there?” he wondered, having noted his absence, but not having worried all too much.

“There was a short term meeting at the BBC — the higher floors — and he said he had to go,” she explained glancing at the clock again. There was no chance such meeting would take over five hours. “He should be back already.”

“Maybe he is gone home?” Freddie suggested and earned a look from Bel, that indicated he didn’t know him well enough, when he thought that.

“He wouldn’t,” she sighed, wishing she had told him about her dinner idea when he had left. “Maybe something has happened.”

Freddie lunged away from the radio, reaching for her hand, to pull her out of the seat, “Oh, come on. Now you are over carrying. I am sure there is nothing, and he’ll show up any minute. Or tomorrow morning, telling you, he simply trusted you with the editorial. Everything is going by plan, so …,” he shrugged and placed a hand on her hip.

Bel smirked at him, glancing down at herself, “What’s this?”

“That’s us!” he smiled wide, his black hair bouncing around his forehead. “Dancing. I thought you like that. I know you like dancing.” He grabbed her other hand with verve and started to make exaggerated moves with her. As if they were two puppets played by their master.

It was ridiculous, and Bel giggled about it. Typical Freddie. At least, he tried to cheer her up, it was nice of him, “Yes, I like to dance, but that is not dancing. That’s physically exhausting!”

“Ahw,” he grinned and stilled his motions. Instead of stepping away, his hand shoved up to her back, making her step closer. His other hand now gently curling around her hand. “So you want a proper dance?”

Unsure what his agenda was, Bel swallowed, but gave into his motions, settling her hand on his shoulder, “Yes. Proper dance. Proper music we have." She nodded toward the radio. 

Slowly Freddie began to sway with her, smiling. The last time they were that close, he had told her that they had to do something about her and him, and had finally given into his feelings, kissing her, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Freddie,” she brushed some imaginary lint from his collar. “I am sorry-”

“-No,” he gave her hand a squeeze, “it’s not you who has to apologize. It’s me. I was silent for too long.”

“Yes,” she breathed. Their linked hands now rested between them against their chests.

“I made many mistakes, Bel,” he whispered, his eyes taking her in. She was wearing the dark blue lady suit he liked at her. A golden brooch over her heart. It brought out her eyes. “The biggest was to let you go, and to return to Camille.”

Bel nodded in agreement, but said, “She is your wife.”

“She was,” Freddie corrected. “She left me, and we all know why. It hurt, but in the end, it is better that way, and it opened my eyes. Made me realize what I really want. From life.”

Bel regarded him with a critical look, “Freddie?”

“The biggest regret I have is, that I never spoke with you about that one kiss,” his eyes flickered to her lips for one moment, “that I did as if it never had happened. Bel, I...,” failing with words, Freddie leaned in to capture her lips.

“No,” Bel had leaned away the moment she had realized what he was about to do. “Freddie! I don’t understand,” she freed her hand from him and parted. “What is this?”

Freddie blinked rapidly, having problems to understand the situation. He had been sure; she would give into his advances and the kiss, but also considered that she might be still mad at him, wanting a proper apology.

“I am sorry for what I did. I am sorry, I married Camille, the little boy I was back in Paris, hurt and egoistic. I had sent you all those letters, and never received an answer, and so I was acting stupid and selfless -- marrying another girl. Making the mistake of my life. 

"Bel, I love you, I always have, and… and..,” he searched the pockets of his jacket for something he knew it wasn’t there. “I don’t have a ring, or anything, but … I want you to marry me.”

Bel bumped against her desk so hard that the typewriter jumped out of the holding position, and the platen roller sprung into the starting position. They both startled over the loud noise.

“Marry you?” she repeated in shock.

“Yes,” Freddie gasped, stepping up to her. One hand about to reach for hers, but she stopped him with a gesture. 

“Freddie, I am… I am,” she was close to give herself a slap in the face, “Freddie, I am with Randall.”

That made him lean back, his face first a frown, then his eyes went wide and he was full of confusion and questions, “W-what? No, you are not.”

“I am sorry, but, I am sure I know,” she couldn’t believe Freddie just had asked her to marry him.

“No. I asked him,” he spat out, ruffling his hair, not understanding the world anymore.

“You asked him?” Bel raised her hands waving them around in the air aside her ears. “You asked him what?”

“Bel, I… after the night in the hospital, I was sure you both were involved, but you acted all indifferent around each other,” he started to explain, pacing now up and down in front of her. “I figured, you both just had a short affair, or I had mistaken something. But to be sure, I went to him. I asked him, straight forward, if he is involved with you.”

“And he said what?”

“He said no, of course!” Freddie was erratic now, feeling like an idiot and also betrayed. That was not the conversation he had hoped for. “He was very certain you would say yes. Telling me your heart always belonged to me anyway.”

_‘When Freddie asks, you can say yes.’_

Bel felt how she slowly drifted into shock.

“Miss Rowley,” it was Sissy. “I called the BBC. They said, there was no meeting today. They haven’t seen Mister Brown. They also ask if there is a problem.”

With a quick turn of her head, Bel stepped up to her, remembering the odd letter earlier that day. It should have been a hint. A letter for the BBC. Why hadn’t she wondered earlier about it, “Mister Brown gave you a letter, right, this noon, when I was in his office?”

“Yes, .. oh god, I forgot about to send it out,” Sissy pulled an excusing face. “I’ll do that now.”

“No!” she stopped her. “Bring it to me!”

“To you?”

“Yes, bring it to me, Sissy, please, and try to call Randall at home!” then she turned to Freddie. “Freddie… I… I can’t marry you. I,” she gave it a sad chuckle, “I don’t love you. Not the way I should.”

“Bel,” Freddie wasn’t aware of all what had happened. About all the mistakes and misunderstandings that had happened. “I’d never asked when…”

“I know,” she stepped up to him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I loved you before everything changed. You were the right one, at least, I thought that, but times change. People change, and we both know, this could never have worked. You love your work too much. Freddie Lyon, the man always in the line of fire, right?”

He laughed about her words, knowing she was the only one who knew him that well.

“You need someone else, someone better, someone who can convince you that work is not everything. That the story is not everything,” her hand caressed his cheek, finally realizing what parted them and what made them being great friends. “I am not that person, as much as I wanted. And as much you are not the person making me realize that there is more than just work and the show and … that’s Randall for me. I was just too busy wanting to believe something else.”

“I know,” Freddie cupped her hand, taking it away from his face. “You were always the clever one.”

“Yeah, stupid boy,” slowly she felt the emotions crash over her, finding it hard to keep the tears at bay. Now with Freddie was dealt, she became too aware that something was with Randall. A bigger problem that couldn't be solved with a few words.

“Do you know where he is gone?”

“I have no idea,” Bel sniffed turning to Sally who came in the same moment, “Any word?”

“No, he is not answering the phone, if he is home,” Sally explained, handing her the letter.

Under shocked looks, Bel ripped the envelope open, reading over it briefly, “I can’t believe it. Randall, what a fool you are!” She then threw the letter into the next paper bin.

“Miss Rowley?” Sally asked, on the edge of getting the letter out of the bin, but Bel stopped her with a warning exclamation. The letter was best were it was.

Bel’s mind went through all the possibilities, “Is Lix still here?” she didn’t wait for an answer and just paced out of the door. Sissy and Freddie following her. “Lix!”

“What? Has Isaac lost the film rolls?” Lix was busy ripping the news from the ticker, a cigarette in the corner of her mouth and her glasses shoved into her hair.

“Randall’s gone,” Bel stated, what made Lix take the cigarette out to stub it.

“Gone? What do you mean gone? Home?”

“No, he is gone! Like-”

“-He ran away? Again?” Lix cursed under her breath, having seen it coming. “What I got to do with it? I told you-”

“-I am not coming to cry on your shoulder!” Bel reached forward grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her from turning away. “I need to know where he would go.”

Lix exhaled loudly, ”Darling, I… Scotland I guess.”

Bel saw that Lix knew something, “And where exactly in Scotland?”

“What for? You want to go after him? The man has run away. Not in a lifetime, he is coming back,” she blurted. “I know him for over twenty years now, and he never changed for anyone. You only hurt yourself.” She did not want that. She did not want to see a broken Bel return, from an eight-hour drive, exhausted, tired, wrecked and hurt so much, that she wouldn’t recover for an enormous amount of time in her life. Like it had happened to her once.

“I know,” Bel looked at her, willing to beg her friend. “It’s complicated. I made a mistake, and I think he ran away because I was … I was listening to the wrong frequency, Lix. Please, where would he go?”

Lix looked long at her, before she looked at Freddie too, who was as eager as Bel to know where Randall had maybe gone. Knowing she would regret it, being the one who had to soften the blow, who had to let her cry on her should, she grumbled, “Fort Augustus.”

“Loch Ness?” Freddie called out. “Wow. How fitting.”

“He once mentioned he spends his off time there,” Lix searched in the back of her head for the information, “I think he has a little cottage there. From his parents. That’s the only place I can think of.”

She pulled Lix into a hug,“Thank you.” Bel smiled, her breath going fast. She glanced at the clock behind Lix and so she looked shocked at her.

“You not going to tell me, you think about going after him _now,”_ it was Lix who now was grabbing her shoulders. “That’s an eight-hour drive. We have a show tomorrow!"

“I know!” Bel started to calculate. “Sally, call the train station, I need to know when the next is leaving toward Fort Augustus and when the next one is going back from there.”

“Oh boy,” was all the young girl said, before hurrying toward the next phone, passing Isaac who just came up from the storage room. “What’s going on?” Sally just waved him over, motioning him to sit down.

“Freddie, tell her that this is nonsense,” Lix turned to him. If there was someone who could stop Bel, it was him. “Tell her if the train has just an hour of delay, she'll never going to make it.”

He turned toward Bel, “What she said. And it is,” he knew Bel couldn’t be stopped anyway.

“What is?” it was Hector eating an apple, only having heard the tumult from the inside of his office, which had made him come out of his safe heaven. “What is going on?”

“Bel is going insane,” Lix explained almost angry she had told about the cottage. “Wants to go to Fort Augustus — tonight.”

“We have a show tomorrow,” he said. “Why is that? What did I miss? What is in Fort Augustus?”

“Loch Ness,” Freddie explained with a mischievous smile.

Hector stopped in the motion to bite from the apple again, gaping at his friends, unsure if he had fallen for a prank, “Did they spot him? The monster, or is it a she? Do we make supernatural news now?”

Lix hit him softly with her open palm on the back of his head, “Jesus, Hector!”

“I have too, okay?” Bel stepped away from the group, waiting for Sissy to return. “Randall is gone; I have to go and tell him to come back.”

“Ah,” Hector now understood. “Well, if a train leaves tonight, you can be there in the morning,” Hector looked at the clock thinking it through. “Convince him in an hour, and you’ll be back on time.”

Lix turned toward him, her arms akimbo, “You are not helping!” Hector stepped back afraid getting hit again.

“The train leaves tonight at eleven, Miss Rowley,” Sissy held out a piece of paper. “It will be there in the morning, and the return train leaves two hours later.”

“Bel,” Freddie maybe couldn’t stop her, but he had to try to talk sense into her. “If something goes wrong, you’ll miss the show. Like Lix said. No producer, no head of news. We are in deep trouble then. Can’t you wait until tomorrow night?”

“You know I can’t,” also she considered it. “No, if I wait too long he is gone for good. He’ll write the BBC he will resign, and then he never comes back. He will never let me get back in. I know him. It’s already so much time, time in which he thinks I betrayed him. I love him, and he needs to know.”

Lix rubbed her temples, “Bloody hell! Hector, drive her home, help her pack, and get her to the train station on time! Isaac get on the phone and find out the address of the cottage. I don’t care how you do it, just do it!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Isaac hurried away. He was good with research; he would find it out.

“What changed your mind?” Bel turned to her, Hector having her already by the arm.

“ _If_ someone can change the mind of this stubborn idiot, it is you,” she followed them both down to the lift. “Don’t expect too much, Bel. Please! He might not there, or will not come back. Call us from home, for the address before you leave.”

“I see you all tomorrow,” was the last she said before the doors of the lift closed.

When Lix turned around she was confronted with the puzzled looks of Sally and the worried look of Freddie, “We are so in trouble. What the hell did you do?”

“To be honest, I am not sure if I did anything,” he sighed and followed Lix into her office. He needed a drink. “Sally if anyone calls, today or tomorrow, tell them Mister Brown has the flu and…”

“... and Miss Rowley is in a conference!” Lix added, before pulling out the bottle of whiskey.

They would need more than just a small drink when Bel wouldn’t be back on time the next day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background; I was looking for a place where Randall could have gone, and I know not many locations in Scotland and somehow I came up with Loch Ness. I dare say, it's almost impossible to get there in 8 hours, aside Fort Augustus has not train station (but the town on the other side has, but Fort Augustus sounds better in my ears) and we had the 50s. It would have been a torture to get there, but this is fiction, so. You getting my drift. It wouldn't be no fun if he would be around the corner right?! 
> 
> Update soon!


	30. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Bel find Randall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice I caught up on the mantra "Feet First" that was heard in S2. Mentioned by Bel, who wrote a letter to Freddie (but never sent) telling him, he was one for just doing things. Feet first! Being brave and stuff. And I liked that and this will be now somehow the mantra of those last chapters.

Hector let Bel out at the train station on time, they both having still some time, he reached for her arm, “Why do you do this?”

She opened her mouth only to close it again. Saying because she loved Randall, or because she had to, would be too simple, “The one person I loved -- before Randall, was Freddie. I loved him so much that I was afraid to speak my mind. We both were. We should have talked about it from the start. We should have dared something, but we put work first, or other things, telling ourselves, that it wasn’t so. That we didn’t love each other, or couldn’t or shouldn’t. We wasted so much time thinking, and when Freddie left, I should have followed. Feet first, into the unknown, but I was too scared, the program too important. 

"Yes, maybe I come home tomorrow alone, and heartbroken, because he wasn’t there or he told me to leave him alone, but I can’t make this one mistake twice. He ran away, for a stupid reason, because of doubt and fear. And God knows, when I have the chance, I'll tell him, I'll yell it at him if necessary, but before I do, I want to tell him, that I'm willing to forgive our foolishness and that I love him. Because that are the words, I never have told anyone before.”

Hector sighed, his heart feeling like a balloon, “Oh god, I should have married you! Back when I had the chance.” Not that he had known her at that time.

With a smirk, she hit his upper arm softly, remembering him all distraught in her office, telling her he loved her, “Shut up! I go now. If I can manage, I call you guys.”

“Look after you, okay?” Hector gave her the small bag, filled with a set of spare clothes and a bit to eat and drink. “Good luck, Bel.”

She nodded, knowing she could need all the luck in the world. There were no guarantees Randall was in Fort Augustus. Maybe he was sitting in the dark in his apartment brooding— Bel had made Hector drive by, and she had rung the bell like a maniac, so there she was certain -- or had gone to some other place no one knew about.

As the train was an overnight train, she got a compartment with a place to sleep. It was nothing comfortable, and as she was sure she couldn’t sleep much anyhow it was fine by her. 

Deciding to spent some time in the dining car, where they served coffee, tea and snacks overnight she walked down the moving corridor, not meeting one soul except the conductor. 

It would be a long ride, and maybe when the sound of the engine and the monotonous rattling of the wheels against the tracks had made her dull and tired, she would be able to find some sleep. 

For now, she only sat down at a table, asking for some tea and stared out of the window. Watching little houses pass by in the distance. Soon they were so far away from civilization that the only things she was able to see were shadows and some bushes and trees, shimmering in the faint moonlight.

Now, with nothing to do, the first doubts crept into her mind. Was this the right thing to do? Lix had been right. If she wasn’t back in time, there could be a catastrophe. 

If anything away from the plan would happen, and it happened so often, there was no one there to decide. When the upper floors would hear about the show without Randall and Bel, they both would get fired. The show maybe cancelled. She risked a lot for him, and while it had looked worth it back in the office, it now seemed like the worst idea ever, “I can’t believe I am doing this. I can’t believe you did this, Randall!” she hist, not realizing she had gotten company a while ago.

An older lady that sat across from her who had watched Bel for a while.

“You okay, dear?” she then decided to lean over, giving her a warm smile.

Bel startled out of her trance, staring at the woman in shock, “I am sorry, I didn’t know…,” she turned around, checking for others, “I thought I was alone. I didn’t mean to … sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the woman glanced around also, “Do you mind when I join you?”

“Uhm, well,” maybe some company would do her good, she thought, and if not she always could excuse herself telling she was tired, “sure.”

“I am Miss Lucie,” she held out her gloved hand, and Bel took it.

“I am Bel.”

“Bel? Not by any chance, the short form for, Isobel?” the woman inquired.

“Yes,” Bel’s eyebrows shot up. Most people — when at all — mistook it for Belle or Isabel, not the unusual turn her mother had gone. “It is. My mother had a hang for the dramatic.”

Miss Lucie chuckled, “It seems so. I had an aunt, having the same name. She hated it to be honest.”

“Well, me too,” she suddenly heard Randall calling her Isobel. “Mostly.”

The older woman looked at her for a bit. As she had been in the room for a while, she had seen Bel glance outside with sad eyes and also had overheard her monologue, “You okay?”

Bel hadn’t the strength to lie too much to the woman, as they probably would be around each other for the next hours, “It was a long day. You are going to Fort Augustus?”

“Yes,” the woman nodded, reaching for her tea cup, “I am visiting an old friend. We meet twice a year; we grew up together, but time and life made us live in different corners of the country.”

“Oh, but you kept the contact?”

“Yes, twice a year, since 40 years,” she explained slightly proud of it. “And you? Visiting Loch Ness?”

“No,  not really,” Bel answered. “I try to … to find someone.”

“Ah,” obviously not only Randall was able to be all meaningful. “Someone called Randall by any chance? It was hard to overhear, dear.”

Bel fiddled with the napkin in front of her, “Yes. I can’t be sure he is there. It’s just a hunch.”

“A friend of yours?” she could hear she had wanted to ask about a boyfriend or husband, the latter discarded by the fact of a missing ring, the first postponed because of respect.

“Companion,” Bel answered quickly, about to tell the woman what he really was to her, but Miss Lucie just reached out patting her hand. She understood. She got Bel’s drift.

Bel could see the older woman was curious and also seemed to want to offer her advice. When not that at least an ear she could pour out her heart to. As she wasn't a noisy person and not wanted to disturb Bel she only kept sipping her tea. If Bel would offer she would listen, if not she would happily talk with her about whatever she brought up.

What is there to lose, Bel thought, reaching into her purse and pulling out her notebook, opening it so she could take out the picture of Randall, “Here, that's him,” shoving the little card over the table the woman took it in hand.

“Give me a moment, “ she then excused herself searching for her reading glasses, putting them on when found. “Quite a dashing young man you have there.”

“Uhm, it's, “ in the end there was no reason to spill out all the facts, and so she kept his real age to herself, “yes, he is.”

“I like his hair,” the woman giggled, giving her the picture back, “those days they all slick them back. Horrible. Before the war, they were all “la vivre” and now,” she ended with a snapping sound, and Bel laughed about her reaction, seeing Randall in front of her, all stern but with a sparkling in his eyes. She missed him.

She missed him so much it hurt. It hurt her to know, that she had concentrated so much on Freddie believing the bond between her and Randall was already strong enough while it was still so weak and sensitive. 

Aside he had given into her so much; she never had seen that there were still the doubts in him. Of her leaving him, because of a younger man, because of Freddie mainly. 

When the phone had ringed, and Freddie had brought the bad news, a process had begun in Randall. A fear that had always been there, now fed to grow and ready to be unleashed by her being more around Freddie — flirting? — instead to be with him, to tell him, she wouldn’t go anywhere. 

Bel mistake was to believe she had shown Randall enough of her and her affection to make him stay, and to believe he was that strong. He would have been with any other man, but not with Freddie Lyon, the one man that indeed was able to turn her world upside down, as he had in the past.

Randall’s mistake it was, to believe he wasn’t good enough, and Bel not strong enough to be over the young man. And too afraid to face the outcome of the proposal, simply thinking Bel would throw everything overboard for something she never had wanted.

The fault was in them both, Bel knew, but also, she was angry about him, that he considered her that weak, that he obviously had believed without a second thought she would leave him, and return to Freddie’s arms. 

Yes, she loved him, he was her friend, always would be, they had built up The Hour together. They brought out the best and the worst in each other, but it didn’t mean they had been ever right for each other as lovers. They had missed their chance. It had taken her long to understand that. It had taken Randall to make her realize that there was more in the world as heartbreak and sobbing over lost love. 

While she stared out of the window — Miss Lucie forgotten for the moment — she wished he was here, so she could come back to that argument about them still loving their old partners. While she never had been involved with Freddie, Randall had a wild affair with Lix, a child, a past that would fill a whole book or more. 

Wouldn’t he go back in an instant, when Lix would snap her fingers? Why not? Why put up with her, Bel? The young girl who wants to have some adventures from life. Randall would need to make an effort, wouldn’t he? With Lix, it would be different. She would treat him like a dog, but the only thing he would have to do is nod, and be a good boy. It would be so easy wouldn’t it?

She hated herself for the thoughts immediately. The same fears. The same weakness. The only thing that kept her believing in a positive outcome was, that he had the same love for her, as she had.

“Here,” Miss Lucie said, making Bel look at an outstretched handkerchief with a frown, “You are crying.”

Her hand touched her cheek, and truly some tears were running down her face. Tears of anger and a hurt heart. “Thank you,” she took it quickly, feeling all vulnerable and shy in front of the stranger.

“Oh, girl, he really must have left an impression, mustn’t he?” Bel only shrugged noncommittally. She didn’t want to look as weak as she felt at the moment. It was her self-protection mechanism; one she was training since being in the television business. “Driving hours through the night. Only having a hunch that he will be in Fort Augustus. That’s…,”

“Stupid. I know.”

“Impressive, I wanted to say,” the older woman smirked.

“Is it? Doesn’t it look like I am running after him after he broke up with me? Doesn’t I look desperate?” Bel asked her with a dare in her voice.

“I don’t know enough about the story to be the judge of it, but who cares,” she leaned back into the rest, drinking her tea. “You love him obviously, and you don’t appear like those dull girls who know nothing about life and fall in love with the first good looking chap they meet, thinking this is the love of their life. 

"I don’t know you, but you seem like a woman who knows what she wants and if it is worth is ready fighting for it. And maybe he is. Maybe he is not in Fort Augustus, and everything was futile. People in love do silly things, and if you think he is there and if you believe you both can make it, it’s good to go. Otherwise, you would always sit at home, asking yourself, what could have been when… . Some people, like me, have to grow ancient to understand that sometimes it’s important to jump into the unknown. Feet first!”

“Yes, feet first,” she smiled sadly at the remembrance of Freddies letters from the states, writing her to come. It wasn’t hers back then. Almost two years later, it seemed it was hers now. Because of Randall. She started to smile, “Feet first.”

The train reached Loch Ness, with only ten minutes delay in the morning. Bel had been able to sleep a bit, not much, but enough to gather strength. The talk with Miss Lucie had helped her to hold down the sorrow and the worries, instead keeping the hopes high. 

Isaac had been able to find out the address that seemed to be related to Randall, over an estate management, and so Bel grabbed her bag and left the small train station to find a cab that would drive her there. 

Glancing at her watch, she knew she hadn’t much time. It was a twenty minutes drive, and she had to be back at the train station in under two hours to catch the train back. When she thought about it long enough, the whole thing was a hopeless endeavour. Now being here, it made no difference. So off she went.

The weather was lovely, the sun was shining, while in London was absorbed by smog, and Bel got an idea why it was here he had run to. Taking this as a good sign, she gave it a smile when the cab finally pulled into a small driveway, one of a few they had passed, ending in front of a small cabin. 

A car was parked in front of it, but Bel saw it wasn’t Randall’s but a little van. Seeing the door open to the cottage, her heart made a jump. There was hope.

“Will you wait here please?” she told the driver and jumped out, standing by the car for a moment in hesitation, looking around. Hoping Randall would show up, but nothing happened, so Bel pushed herself away from the cab, climbing the stairs.

“Hello? Anyone there?” she called into the inside, hearing someone rummaging around. “Randall?”

She found an open door that seemed to lead into a small storage room, someone behind it.

“Randall?” she asked quietly.

A head popped up, shutting the door and staring at her in surprise. No, it wasn’t Randall, but a man in work clothes. The caretaker.

“Oh, God ma’am, you startled me,” the man smiled at her. “You're looking for Mister Brown?”

“Yes,” oh, she was on the right track, “Is he here?”

“No, sorry, I haven’t seen him yet,” the man explained, pushing some more cans into the storage. “He gave me a call yesterday, telling me to stack the cottage. Food, firewood and all. Told me he would be here in the evening, but because I wasn’t able to do it yesterday, he said he would stay in a hotel.”

“A hotel? You don’t know by any chance which one?”

“No, sorry, it’s Loch Ness, we have so many here. All the tourists you know,” the man noticed Bel’s devastated look. “I am sure he will come here soon. After lunch maybe, you could wait.”

“I can’t, I have to catch a train,” she explained, turning around to see the cab wait outside. No, she couldn’t do that. She had to be back on time in London. “Will you meet him by any chance?”

“Yes, he has to pay me of course,” he nodded.

“Could you … deliver a message?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he smiled. “If it’s not too long. I am not the best in remembering things, so if, you should write it down.”

“Just tell him, I said no,” Bel said. “Can you remember that?”

“You said no?” he repeated quizzically. “To what?”

Bel gave him a grin, “He’ll know.”

“Alright, Ma’am, I tell him you said no, I’ll remember that,” he scratched the back of his head, unsure what to think of the young woman in front of him, and the cryptic message.

“Thank you,” Bel let her gaze roam over the place, finding it suited Randall, hoping it wouldn’t be the last of it she saw. Then she had to let go and to return to London.

She was almost glad the time span was so small. It left her less time to think too much. Made her focus on the important things and stopped her from grieving -- that she would do on the train. Eight hours of nothing to do, except crying probably.

Walking back to the cab, she gave the cabin a last hopeful look, and hopped back in, telling that the man had to drive her back to the train station. 

While the car drove swiftly back to Fort Augustus, Bel felt suddenly as if someone had wrapped her in a thick blanket. The world around her zoomed out, began to vanish, while she sat in the car, her bag in her lap, and without a warning she began to laugh. Filled with tears, that ran down her cheeks.

Feet first. And the outcome? 

She loved him so much; she had put her carrier on the brink, and God it would have been worth it when she would have seen him at least. Could have told him how she felt about him, that she never had considered saying yes to Freddie, not even, when he would have sent her away, telling her it was over. Could have shown him at least how angry she was, but all this was refused to her by whatever powers.

Then she panicked, and turned around in the car, looking out of the window, the cottage long gone out of sight. Would the caretaker remember?

 Why hadn't she written the words down instead, and had pinned it to the door or similar? The idiot would probably forget — having the luck she had at the moment.

Too late. Too late Bel.  _ Too  _ late!

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to end this fic by tomorrow. I think there are two chapters left now! Stay tuned.


	31. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bel wasn't able to find Randall, so the question is, where is Randall? Still in London? Where did he go, and what if, by a very small chance, the message of Bel will reach him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, there are so many questions that need an answer !

Around the same time, somewhere in a hotel in Fort Augustus

He hadn’t slept well. It had been more a daze, and a tossing about in the bed sheets. Only in the early morning hours, his exhausted body found relief in some sleep. At least, for a few hours, he was allowed to rest by his ‘never growing tired of pacing’ mind.

Randall had driven nine hours in almost one go, reaching the hotel at eleven in the night. Only having stopped twice for getting gas and using a bathroom.

In a hurry, he had left for home, after giving Sally the letter that would explain his absence and after telling Bel a lie about a conference. And giving her the permission of saying yes to Freddie.

The permission. What was he thinking? Was he allowing her this? Or was he only allowing himself to be proved right? In the end, he was willing to sacrifice his love for her; too convinced it was the thing that would make Bel happy.

His head had started spinning the moment he had sat down in his car driving almost reckless out of town. His aim, getting away as quickly as he could. As if the upcoming happenings were a bomb that would be able to burn him with its radiation.

He tried to ignore the voices in his head, tried to push the pictures of Bel away. Bury them where he had buried everything he didn’t like to be reminded of in the past.

That’s what he had done back when he had left Lix. When he had heard about her, giving birth to his child. Back then, this method had worked perfectly fine. Letting him wake only years later at four in the morning, questioning himself for his reasons and if it had been the right decision.

This time, it was different. This time, the nagging feeling of having made a mistake seemed to claw in the back of his head almost immediately, telling him there was a fair chance he had misjudge the situation.

In the morning, he ate a small breakfast in the hotel he had stayed. Coffee and buttered toast, feeling not very hungry.

After running some small errands, he would go up to the cottage, seeing if everything was alright. By then Mister Smith, the caretaker who took care of many empty cabins in the area, would have stocked the house with everything he would need.

He wasn’t sure for how long he would stay. Two weeks, at least, had been his initial plan. Sorting through possible ideas of what to do. Of where to go.

He didn’t need to find work quickly. He had some savings that would carry him for quite a while. But he knew himself; he would soon get restless. Quietness and living like a hermit were fine for a while, but after a bit, he would feel that prickle in the tip of his fingers again. This need to grab a pen and write something down, to make news, to report.

With luck, he could find a job close by, or he would go back to Europe. Or, when benighted enough, in the heat of a moment, he could find a crisis somewhere in the world, to report from there. That would keep the voices down for sure. It had back in the great war when he had spent his time in France, reporting from the front line.

And then there was America too. He never had been there, it never had attracted him that much. Now it seemed like a good spot to go. Far away from London, far away enough from Bel Rowley -- and here he was again. With the woman, he had grown so fond of. Who he loved beyond reasons.

It tore at his heart knowing she would be first outraged that he had left one day before the show, only followed by the certainty that he wouldn’t return. Not to the show and not to her.

What a coward he was, he thought, but there hadn’t been any strength in him anymore, after he had heard Freddie tell him about his plan for a proposal.

Them getting married. It wasn't an impossibility. They fit, somehow. Not perfectly in his opinion, but Freddie could give, what he might not. Children for instance. When he was honest, he never had talked with Bel about it. She never had told him, if she would like to have kids, not even when he had told her about Sofia. Not that he had banned the thought entirely from his mind, but he wasn't of such young age anymore.

Standing hundreds of miles away from her, it didn't matter anymore. By now Freddie would have asked her already.

He stood in a little shop that was buzzing with people. Tourists mostly, ready to go on a hiking tour or a boats tour in hope to get a glimpse of “Nessie” — something that had always amused him -- holding a can of pomade in hand, when he almost felt Bel’s hand in his hair, telling him she loved his curls untamed.

In the morning he had found his tin empty, having, therefore, to go outside without any product in his hair, feeling half disturbed half on the edge of a revolution.

Randall Brown hadn’t left the house with not slicked back hair since many years, only allowing his curls to be as they wanted when he was in private at home, over the weekend, or overnight after the shower.

The first time Bel had seen him like this, he had been afraid, something was wrong with her eyes. Totally befuddled. Pressing her nose into the soft mane, while he trailed his tongue over her throat and collarbone holding her with both arms. Making love to each other.

Not ever until this moment, he had realized, that the look she used to give him after he came back out the bathroom in the morning, ready for work, having his hair slicked back again, was one of soft disappointment. Randall never had given it any credit, but it had been there. A pouting, never explained with words.

Maybe it was this moment, holding this small can in hand, having Bel’s word in his ears, her lovely face in front of him, when he saw himself react so blind and mindlessly to Freddie’s disclosure.

Like a wild animal, or more a stupid rabbit, scared to the bones, sidestepping and running away into the next best direction without even considering if it was right or wrong or what consequences it would bear.

He had run home, had made the necessary phone calls, had thrown some clothes into a bag, only to jump into his car to drive off. For hours. Into the wrong direction. Away from Bel.

What the hell did you do? Old fool! he scolded himself in mind, the can still in hand, slightly shaking. Suddenly his breath went ragged, out of control -- a panic attack. The same feeling he had the day before in the office, when Freddie had been there. It was his body revolting against his mind. His heart calling for attention. Done with being neglected for so long.

What if she never would have said yes to Freddie? But by now she knew for sure Randall was gone, that he had run away. Wasn’t that a good reason to return to the one man she had once loved? Even it was only out of disappointment and something like “just you wait, Randall Brown!”?

What if this reaction, this wrong one, had made her turn back into Freddie's arms?

And then, out of the mingling people and the many talks, he caught up on a conversation between two older ladies. He wouldn’t have noticed, when;

“Can you imagine? The girl drove eight hours through the night for him. Telling him to come back. Not even knowing if he was here.”

“Lucie, I am not sure if this is utterly insane or utterly romantic. What was his name?”

“I don’t know. I forgot. But her name, it was Isobel. Like, my aunt. God, I hope she found him.”

Randall let the tin drop to the floor, where it made such a rattling sound that the people around him began to stare. He ignored it and paced around the small rack toward the old women, “What did you say?”

“I beg you pardon?”

“The girl, the woman… her name was Isobel? Like… blond, round face, that high?”

“Yes, exactly, Bel, I met her on the train,” Miss Lucie explained to the stranger in front of her. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” again his mind was pacing. “And you say, she was on the train with you, from London to here?”

“Yes, she told me she wanted to go to find her … her fiancee or whatever he was. Hoping he was staying at his cottage.”

“Bel!” Randall turned around, pacing over to the counter, “Do you have a phone and can I use it? I pay for it of course.”

“Yes, there in the back,” the man by the counter pointed at the other side of the store, and Randall ran over, grabbing the receiver and threw some coins into it, dialing the number of Bel's office.

It rang a couple of times, when finally someone took off, “Miss Rowley’s office, how can I help?” It was Isaac.

“Mister Wengrow!”

“Yes?” Isaac couldn’t grasp who was on the phone yet.

“I need to talk to Miss Rowley,” Randall pressed, his eyes wandering around the store, stopping by the older lady who frowned at him.

“Oh, Mister Brown, uhm ... Miss Rowley, she is, she is taking part in a conference,” he stammered.

“What conference? Since when do we have conferences at this day?” Randall barked, forgetting for a moment he wasn't the Head of News anymore because he was standing 600 miles away and not in the office, what didn’t reduce the effect on Isaac.

“Uhm… no conference,” he admitted quickly, seeing Lix walk by in the distance only to wave hectically at her.

“Where is she, Isaac? Where?”

Why had he take that call, Isaac asked himself, “Mister Brown, please tell me you are in Fort Augustus.” By now Isaac held the receiver with both hands, afraid he would drop it. Lix standing by the door gesturing what the matter was.

“I am,” Randall answered calmer, sensing to distress his employee so much, he might let the receiver drop or hang up in panic.

“Good, because Miss Rowley left by train last night, I think she arrived there at eight,” Isaac explained quickly, getting ready to be barked at again.

“What? But there is a show today!” it came to Randall. “I can’t believe she did that!”

“You say it,” it slipped Isaac. “Hello? Mister Brown?”

“Isaac, what is it? Was that Randall?” Lix enquired with wide open eyes, close to shake him by the shoulders.

“Yes,” he lowered the receiver. “He hung up on me.”

Randall had slammed the receiver back into the cradle, raging almost. How could Bel do that? Coming after him, when there was a show going on in the evening. Risking her career. For him. Risking everything.

“You stupid fool, you should have known!” with the words on his lips he swirled around once more, pacing over to Miss Lucie, “Thank you! So much.”

With that he ran out of the store, and back to his car, leaving a dozen people in the store with question marks over their heads behind.

He needed to drive as quickly as possible to the cottage, and while he almost crashed into a fire hydrant, Randall checked his watch. If she would be at the cabin, he could tell her that he had been a radiant fool, that he was sorry, and that it was the most stupid thing of her to come here, and then shove her into the car, and they could be back in London on time.

It took him twenty-five minutes till he reached the small driveway, seeing the caretaker just about to close the door, and leave with his small truck.

When he saw Randall’s car pull up the street, he stopped and waved at him.

“Mister Brown!” “Mister Smith!” they blurted at the same time.

“Mister Smith, I need to know, if a woman was here?”

“Yes! A blonde one. Very round eyes," the man made circles with his hands. "She was looking for you and seemed a bit upset. I told her she could wait, but she said, she had to catch a train,” the man answered excitedly. “You missed her by a hair’s breadth. Well, twenty minutes or so, but that’s not much.”

“Twenty minutes? A train? Oh, god, she is going back to London. She is completely insane!” Randall swirled around himself once, only to face Mister Smith again who looked at him with wide open eyes and an open mouth. “I need to drive to the train station.”

“Oh,” was all the man said. “And the cottage?”

“Uhm,” Randall reached for his bag and pulled out some money. “Here. And thanks.”

Randall looked at the cottage for a moment, then at the caretaker, giving him a taut smile and stepped back into his car.

About to turn the car, the man suddenly stepped into the line of the driving car, waving hectically, “Wait! Hold on a moment!”

Randall let down the window, “What? What is it?”

“I almost forgot, she left me a message for you!”

Randall waited for him to say it and when the man didn’t say anything, “Speak up, man!”

“She said,” he squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, making Randall almost reach for the labels of his brown coat, “Tell him; I said no.”

A smile appeared on Randall’s lips, before he laughed up, “I know!”

“You know?”

“I know!” he had known back in London, but hadn’t listened to his heart and to the feeling in his gut, letting the worried voices in his mind win.

“But Mister Brown, what does it mean?” the man stopped him roll up the window.

“It means, that the next time a woman comes along,” Randall shouted over the engine, “you better put your effort into believing her and something called confidence, instead of throwing everything of it into doubt and rejection.”

“Okay,” Smith nodded, before shaking his head. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” he gave the younger man a nod, and then drove off.

 

He almost ran over a group of sheep, but in the end, he reached the train station safely. Jumping out of the car, he climbed the stairs of the main building, looking for a conductor or someone who looked like Bel.

While trying to get a clue out of the information board, he heard a train come in, and so he ran outside, hoping it was the train that would leave to London — the one Bel needed to use.

A few people stepped out of the train, and he asked a man if this was the train toward London, but the man just shrugged, saying he wouldn’t know.

At the end of the platform by the loco he spotted the conductor, already about to step back onto the machine, “Wait! Hang on a moment! Is this the train to London?”

“London?” the man asked over the furious sound the engine made. “Oh, you mean the express. No, that one left twenty minutes ago.”

Slowly stepping back from the man and the wagon, he watched the monstrosity made out of metal and wood, leave the station. Howling and steaming, first slow, then quicker, till it was gone and soon out of sight.

Twenty minutes. He was late the moment he had arrived at the cottage. He glanced down the tracks, feeling numb and empty. How must Bel feel now? After hours of traveling with high hopes of finding him, only to be disappointed — again.

Like him probably. But he deserved it, and Bel not. Bel deserved - again - better. 

Too late. Too late Randall. _Too_ late!

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, I stole one little sentence out of a comment I got, about Randall sacrificing his own love/luck for Bel's luck (or what he thinks it is). So thanks!
> 
> And I hope the chapter is able to express that Randall always knew Bel wouldn't leave him but was just too stupid, and that's why he returns and not because someone wrote it down for him, but of course it needed some happenings for him.   
> I think, that he would have returned sooner or later, without Bel coming after him, because in the end Randall is a clever man and even only to tell her that he was sorry (and a tiny spot in his heart still convinced she had said yes to Freddie then).
> 
> But now... this story is coming to an end. Get ready for one last update!!!


	32. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This last chapter doesn't need a summary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The last chapter. 31 chapters. I never thought this would get so out of hand. But it was the most fun to write and now I hope, I can you all please with this last chapter. When tying the knot and bring the story to an end.  
> Enjoy.

Bel spent again hours on the train, in a compartment she had all for herself. After the guard had controlled her ticket, he didn’t bother her again, and she only left the small cabin a handful of times, refreshing herself at the ladies room and to get up on her feet for a bit.

Her head rested against the window, softened by a jumper from her bag, while she tried to drift off into a slumber, listening to the engine. At some point she indeed fell asleep, only to be woken by the low whistling of the loco’s horn.

Startling awake she glanced around in confusion, checking her wristwatch only to find out it was still three hours till they would reach London.

The landscape outside her window seemed never to change. Wide mead, in exchange with little villages in the distance and a couple of small train stations they stopped at for a few minutes before moving on. 

The weather seeming to get worse with every mile they traveled closer to London. The sun still out there, it had become dizzier and in the far Bel believed to see dark clouds, unsure if the direction was London or not.

The train ride seemed to take forever and with every sound she heard from the floor she hoped someone would come in, to keep her company. Just someone, any stranger would do, even someone who would just hide behind a newspaper, or some annoying chatty old lady. But no one came.

The train seemed like a ghost train, going nowhere. Just her and the conductor, who was the only person she saw when stepping outside her compartment. 

A grim looking, old man, who had looked at her ticket for so long that she was about to assume someone had sold her the wrong ticket. Maybe it had been her appearance, she thought. She was wearing a bit too casual clothes for traveling, but sitting in a dress or a frock for so long was a challenge too much, aside she not had much time to decide on something. To hell with rules and standards.

She had stormed into her apartment, Hector in tow, pulling out a bag from somewhere before she had rummaged through her cupboard, getting something out that would do. Not even carrying that Hector was there she had started to undress, ripping down the dark blue costume she was wearing to slip on the more comfortable clothes. He had turned around politely, feeling all flustered. She had shrugged it off, nothing he hadn’t seen before.

If there were any delays, she had dared to ask the man, when meeting him at the corridor. They would arrive London more or less on time he had answered, whatever that meant, but she guessed up to a twenty-minute delay was sustainable when having a such a long drive. Even then she would be on time for the show. By a whisker, but what did it matter?

Not that she wanted to be there, now with Randall gone. Of course, she had to; she not wanted to risk the jobs of the people who worked for her. The Hour was successful, no question, but with a Head of News absent and a Producer, the upper floors, would call out an airing stop. TV-business was a fast-living thing. A few weeks off the air would make The Hour vanish from the people's mind.

No, she had to be there, to save what could be saved. Randall would send in his resignation sooner or later, and they would replace him. There were a few names she already had in mind and was sure the BBC knew good people. Even a brilliant Randall Brown could be replaced so very quickly. At least in the job.

What would she do? A good question, better not be pondered over too hard while being sleep deprived, while being heartbroken and in the mood to just step out the train at the next halt to vanish too. To nowhere. Because what was left in London?

A Freddie Lyon, who might still marry her, not that she had anything like that in mind. 

An empty office, filled with books about Freud and psychoanalysis, soon to be emptied and to be inherited by a new owner — always being a reminder of a missing person. 

An empty flat and a job that would become a burden sooner or later.

Maybe there was time for a change. After all, she did this job now for a few years. She could easily apply somewhere else, or leave the country for a bit. Travel, get some experience, as Freddie had done. What he could do, Bel could do easily. Feet first.

Or was that just an excuse to look for Randall? He wouldn’t stay forever in that cottage; there she was sure. He was, in the end, not only a loner but a full blood journalist, in need to report, to bring out the news, because that was his job, his life and his spirit.

 

_“Why did you go to Spain? Why did you volunteer for it?” she once had asked him, while she sat at the table watching him cook breakfast for them. She in her panties, a shirt of him on, and her cardigan to keep her warm._

_He in his trousers, the braces over his undershirt, his hair beautifully disheveled. A night of love making behind them._

_“I had to,” he had answered. “If we don’t go, reporting, no one will. No one will see the cruelty of wars against civilians, of country leaders being ruthless against their own people. It’s not a nice thing to do, but someone has to go. Back in that time, I felt that his someone had to be me.”_

 

She had admired him for his words and actions, she still did. A bit like Freddie, she thought, her head resting against the window again, pulling out the picture of him, only to find herself crying at it.

 

The train reached London central station at seven thirty in the evening, and Bel stumbled out of it as if waking up out of a dark dream. She hailed the nearest cab and ordered the cabbie to drive her over to the studio. Where she arrived ten minutes before the show would go on air.

Storming down to the studio, the relief of all the crew was a hearable sight, “Everything okay? Are we ready?”

“Bel!” Freddie stormed up to her, leaving his seat. Hector followed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it, you made it.”

“Spot on!” Lix came out of the newsroom cabin. “Darling you look horrible!”

“Thanks, Lix, I feel like it too,” Bel gave her a short smile. “I’m okay. Do I need to know anything?”

“Not really, we managed,” Lix pointed at all of them. “For once in awhile, there were no surprises. Program stands, film material is ready to air. No new crisis going on in the world.”

“Good,” Bel exhaled. “I am so glad you covered me.”

Hector was the first who lost his temper, “Oh, save yourself the kind words. Just tell us what has happened! Where is Randall? He was there, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” Bel glanced at the clock. There were still a few minutes left. “I didn’t see him. Just his caretaker. I didn’t have any time to go anywhere else as to the cottage.”

“Bel, he called,” Lix offered. “Isaac was on the phone with him.”

Bel turned to Isaac, “What did he say?”

“He asked for you, and after a bit I told him, you’ve followed him,” Isaac explained.

“And? And what, Isaac?” Bel barked at him, but Isaac only looked at Lix all helpless, and so Bel turned to her, anticipating there were no good news. “Lix? What did he say?”

“He seemed very mad at you, and hung up on Isaac after that,” Lix explained, seeing how the news slowly destroyed Bel. Not that she wasn’t beaten already. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bel turned. There was no time for more grieving; she had that for long hours in the train. “Guys, we have a show to run. We talk about it later, go back to your places. Two minutes.”

Freddie and Hector walked back to their seats in the spotlight, and Lix and Isaac followed Bel into the newsroom, sharing worried glances. 

Bel didn’t speak, just checked the notes that laid out, reading through the schedule once again. Twenty seconds before they would go on air, she grabbed the microphone, “I know it was an unusual day. The position of the Head of News seems to be vacant since yesterday, but I expect that everybody will give their best. We can do it, we did it once, we can do it again. Five. Four. Three.”

 

Bel did her best to follow the show, to keep it together. Not that it was easy. It never would be easy again, at least not in near future. A good sleep and a weekend away from everything would surely help. The only thing she could hope for was that the BBC would bring in a new head of news soon. It would help her to make a decision about her own staying or leaving.

When the last seconds of the show ticked down the clock, and the both Anchormen made their goodbyes to the watching people, Bel sank into a chair, her head buried in her hands. Exhausted and at the end of her strength, she exhaled loudly. 

Feeling Lix’s comforting hand on her shoulder, she smirked without raising her head, “What an odyssey, Lix!”

“You did what you had to do,” Lix settled onto the desk in front of her. “You had the right nose. He was there in the end.”

Her answer was a sarcastic huff, “So what? I spent twenty hours traveling the country, risking not only my career. For what? Five minutes talking to a caretaker! And you know what is the worst? I love him, I still do, and he told me he did too, but then runs away. Declining me the closure I deserve! After all, I’d have deserved a proper talk, wouldn’t I?”

“You do, darling,” Lix turned toward the studio. Seeing Hector and Freddie talk to each other, the technicians busy, and the spotlights going out when suddenly the whole room seemed to stop in tracks. Frowning she watched the men stare at some point in the room, the entry door, “I take everything back.”

“I don’t think there is a need for it, you were right at the end,” Bel was close to sinking into her own arms, ready just to sleep in the studio. “The man can’t be changed. So to hell with him!”

Lix smiled, slowly slipping down from the desk, her hand grabbing Bel by the shoulder gently, “That’s what I want to take back. Because there is a chance, you did the impossible, darling. Look!”

Confused and with ruffled hair Bel came up, looking at Lix, before following her gaze that was directed at some point in the studio.

Randall. Having driven all the way back to London. Dressed in a jumper, a shirt underneath, the tie half loose. A scruff already forming, and no product in his hair that was taming his curls.

Bel lunged up, the stool falling almost backward about to hit the ground, when Isaac wouldn’t have caught it, “Oh my God.”

Randall gave Hector and Freddie a nod, before stepping forward and looking up to the newsroom area. Not moving, just staring, looking at Bel, who couldn’t believe her eyes. Considering that he was only a hallucination of her tired mind.

Only when Lix pushed her toward the exit, she grasped he was real. Was there. Had come back.

When she stepped out of the door, Randall gave her an exhausted but happy smile and waited patiently for her to come down to him. 

When she was closer, he turned to the others, “Would you mind giving us a moment? Miss Rowley and I have something to talk about, I think.”

“Of course,” Hector nodded and pulled Freddie with him, into the other room with Lix and Isaac.

They waited till everybody had left the room before they started talking at the same time;

“How could you just run away, one day before an air night?”

“What possessed you to come after me, leaving the show alone?”

They broke into a desperate chuckle.

“You should have never come after me!” Randall exclaimed. “Risking your career for me. For me! A fool,” Randall stepped up to her, about to reach out for her, but still afraid. 

He wouldn’t and couldn’t blame her if she would tell him he had come home to an already lost battle. That she had decided against him.

“Randall Brown, you are indeed a fool. One shining one! Did you really think I would say yes?” Bel closed the gap, taking his hand.

“Yes,” he gave her hand a soft squeeze. “Because I was afraid and stupid. Because I am the man who wrecks it, who doesn’t deserve you, who is old and couldn’t believe his luck, that a woman like Bel Rowley, smart and beautiful would ever consider me as the one who she wants to stay with. And when I am true,” Randall glanced up to the window, where his crew stood together watching the couple intently, “I expect you to say, that I missed my chance. That you only came to Fort Augustus because you had more guts and grace in you as I would ever have, telling me you said yes — even I got your message. A change of mind, a lie. I never would address it. It’s what I deserve, Bel. For all the foolish things I’ve done in life. Treating you so badly-”

“-Shut up!” Bell called out, sniffing slightly. “I didn’t treat you better, and you know it. I was so busy with myself and Freddie; I didn’t listen. I didn’t observe. Instead of telling you how much I care for you, I assumed you would know. Forgetting that this all is still so fragile. That we both have a past that left marks in our hearts.”

Randall lowered his gazed down to their hands, “How did you even know I was in Fort Augustus?”

“I asked Lix,” his face shot up looking at her through the glass, connecting with her for a second, “we couldn’t be sure, but I had to take the risk.”

“Why do you want to be with an old sod like me, mh, Bel? You can have anyone,” Randall dared to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips gently grazing against her skin. Before he could take his hand away again, Bel covered it with one of hers. “You saw what I did, how I ran.”

“So,” she took his hand and rubbed it between hers, “you say, you're not good enough, doing the things you always did. Being afraid of a proper relationship most of the time, and when it gets complicated you run, yes?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Well, leaves one question open,” she smirked. “Why are you here then? After all you just told me, you should be sitting at Loch Ness doing some monster-spotting or brooding, being devastated by me, the Hour and the world in particular.”

His eyes wandered over her face, her tired eyes, seeing she had cried so much in the last 24 hours, because of him, and it hurt his heart. Also seeing the dare in her eyes, the spark of hope. Understanding what she tried to tell him. 

He smiled, pursing his lips again, as he always did when he had to admit a defeat. A defeat he could live with very well. Overruled.

“The same reason, you not went home, shutting out the world with a blanket and a soppy movie. Instead, you grasped life by its collar, like you use to do in the newsroom. Fearless and reckless. Feet first,” his eyes fell shut for a moment, and he had to laugh at his foolishness. “When I woke up in the morning I knew it had been a mistake. Remembering that this were all the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Like I fell in love with you,” Randall’s eyes went wide over the admission. “I should have told you in an instant, but you were right, I love Freddie, but not that way. I know that now. I know so much now. We could have saved us all the drama with a proper talk, but that’s ‘what if’, and a waste of time to think about. 

"Here we are, smarter as before. And I love you, with all your tics and your grim face, your glasses and your — what the hell has happened with your hair? And your suit? You are in public Mister Brown!”

Randall glanced down at himself, “Ahw, you know, I figured, it was time for a change. Aside, there was this woman once, asking me at one time if I was completely insane, before she told me a year later that she had a hang for this look. It reminded her of someone; she never had the chance to meet.”

“And?”

“She deserves to meet him,” Randall unraveled his hands from her, taking hers now in his. “Listen, I…”

 

_“I can’t believe he came back,” Lix leaned against a desk. There was not much in life that still surprised her. This was one moment that deserved a mark in the calendar._

_Hector leaned aside her, holding out some cigarettes to her, “Since when did you know anyway?”_

_“Longer as you, darling,” she took the fag and let him lighten it._

_Hector gave her a mischievous side look, “I bet you didn’t.”_

_Lix returned the look, feeling challenged now, “A bottle of fine whiskey,” she offered, and he nodded, accepting the bet._

_“So, let’s hear, foreign desk, since when?”_

_Freddie chuckled over both of them, knowing now how blind he obviously had been._

_“The day you wanted to have that one interview about the boy and the minister,” Lix gave him a confident smirk. “There I knew. You?”_

_Hector leaned over to Isaac, “Mister Wengrow, do you still carry the letter around with you? The one I gave you a couple of months ago?”_

_Freddie and Lix exchanged glances, now very curious what Hector was up to._

_“Oh, yes, of course,” Isaac reached for his notebook, fumbled out the letter and gave it to Hector, who gave it without a word to Lix._

_Noting the date that was written on it, she ripped it open, finding a handwritten note by Hector that suggested that Randall was in a relationship with Bel. Lowering the letter into her lap, she breathed out the smoke of her cigarette exaggerated, “I can’t believe it!”_

_Hector chuckled, “I like my whiskey with a bow, just you know,” and they returned their attention back to the couple in the studio room._

_“Who is going to bet, he will kiss her any second?” Freddie rolled with his chair over to Lix and Hector, now spurred on by the excitement of the others._

_Lix leaned forward looking at him, “You? Didn’t you propose to her 24 hours ago?”_

_Freddies head made a meaningful tilt, “I made a mistake. Bel and I we… we don’t fit. Not as we believed we would. I have to let her go. That’s all I can say. So, you going to bet?”_

_“Nah, that’s not worth a bet,” Hector glanced down at him. “Of course, he will kiss her.”_

_“Don’t say that, that’s Randall Brown,” Lix reminded him and he cocked an eyebrow at it._

_“He is going to propose to her,” it suddenly came from the back, and all three turned around, seeing Isaac spooling a film role back in place. He had been quiet all the time listening to their talks, gently smiling at them and the couple a few feet away from him. “What?” he pulled a face at the three pairs of prying eyes, “I have seen people propose. Not to me sadly, but I know such thing. It’s all about the body language.”_

_“No way!” Hector gasped, turning back at the couple, who still stood there holding hand, obviously arguing about the last two days._

_“Wanna bet?” Isaac dared, and earned a respected look from Lix, what made him go all red. “Bottle of your finest whiskey.”_

_“I didn’t know you drink, Isaac?” Freddie blew some smoke into the air, frowning at the couple. There was no hint anyone would propose soon._

_“I turn 21 next week, so,” Isaac offered._

_“I am in,” Freddie turned to the others. “I am going to trust my apprentice here.”_

_“Not in front of us! I am in for the kiss, but not a proposal. I know that man,” Lix said._

_“What makes you so certain?” Freddie asked her._

_“I was there the last time he proposed to someone.”_

_“Who?” Hector frowned, not having known till now that Lix had known Randall before._

_“Me,” she grinned at them all without looking at the men. “To answer your next question, I said no — apparently.”_

_Freddie rolled over to her, wide open eyes, his hands trying to form something in the air._

_“Oh, boys. Don’t you think women my age have a past? We were young and dull and made a mistake. I have to let him go. That’s all I can say,” she winked at Freddie and then turned to Hector “So, what you're betting on?_

_“I’ll go with you,” Hector rubbed his hands before turning to Isaac for a moment. “Not going to happen, junior.”_

_“I take my whiskey with a red bow, just you know,” Isaac only said, still reeling the film role, his mouth twitching when he felt Hector’s side glance on him._

  


“I know it has been a long day.” Randall gave a short, nervous glance toward the group of people that seemed to have leaned forward as if they were waiting for something. Deciding it was time to ignore them and the fact that his strict inner self tried to postpone his idea, he slowly dropped down to his knee. “I don’t have a ring or something, but…”

Bel held her breath, staring down at him.

“... aside we are both tired, and shaken by the events, but I had long hours to think about it, and I dare to ask you if you can imagine to marry me? Randall Brown, loner, past his prime. Idiot, but completely in love with you, promising to be better as this, from now on.”

The same moment Randall had spoken, they both could hear a cry out from the other room. A mix of joy and groaning. A little tumult. Turning their heads toward it, they saw four people mingling and arguing with each other.

Bel laughed at the sight, turning back to Randall, who just frowned in confusion, looking back up at Bel again, “Uhm, I sense I’ve missed something, but I can’t tell what exactly.”

“I think, Isaac just won a bottle of fine whiskey, after betting on your proposal,” she explained to him, what made his eyebrows go all haywire.

Randall still on his knees, holding Bel’s hand, shook his head in disillusionment about his staff, “You were right, this is a madhouse.”

They did come a long way, he thought. From him standing in her doorway, asking her if she needed a lift home, let alone all the trouble before. It had been him, in the end, bringing Freddie back. To them both all dressed in clothes they had spent too much time in, exhausted, tired. Having gone through a hundred emotions. 

Somewhere there were surely some books to sort, and suits had to be brought to the cleaners, as always at this time of the week.

Nonimportant now, because there was no place he wanted to be more as here with her.

“Yes,” Bel breathed almost inaudible, making Randall turn back to her, his eyebrows now a shaking arch.

“Y-yes? Yes, it’s a madhouse, or…”

“Yes, Mister Brown,” she tugged him up, back on his feet. “If you take me. Restless whirlwind. Young. Childish. Stubborn workaholic, who hasn’t made all mistakes in life yet, but utterly in love with you —  then yes. Thousand times yes.”

Randall gave her a fond smile, slowly making her come into his arms, his hand brushing over her cheeks, the other on the small of her back. His heart was so full of love, something he never had thought could happen again for him. Not so intense, not so promising, "Oh, Miss Rowley," then he leaned down, capturing Bel’s lips.

Another uproar went through the technical room, what made Bel and Randall laugh against each other's lips. They knew who had helped to make this little wonder happen.

Then they forgot about their crew, holding tight to each other, kissing. Savoring the moment.

It was only them now, not a newsroom, with everybody looking at them, just them. Together. 

They didn’t care about the rules, about the future, about what would be. There would be a solution somehow. Being married would change the rules of the game. There would be nothing indecent about it. Them running The Hour together — they could proof the upper floors, they were better together as without each other or The Hour without both of them.

And if not, they would leave. To Europe. Paris. Spain. Venice, in Italy. Or America. Or Fort Augustus. As long they were together.

Feet first.

 

The End.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all know i am a sucker for a happy end, and I just don't want Randall to be unhappy. I love this pairing so... 
> 
> I thank you all for reading this story and commenting and I hope you had fun and it was the end you wanted and it was just a quality story you liked to read. 
> 
> Before posting this chapter I checked the hits and devided them through 29 chapters, what would make 13 people reading it. Also this thing has over 40 kudos, so there probably a few more readers. I just couldn't get around to notice that "Collide" with Randall/Clara had at the same time over 1000 hits, but yeah it's not a usual ship. And of course aside I say i don't care, one is always a bit miffed, when writing 100k and "nobody" is reading it :D. 
> 
> Anyway, it was fun to write, I love Randall and I became very fond of this ship and I think it has my heart a bit more as Randall/Clara, probably because Bel and Randall come from the same universe and had actual interaction on screen. 
> 
> Not sure if I will write more Randall/Bel, someone told me, they feel it's my last story. As I start a new job tomorrow what will keep me busy and my writing time will shrink to just a few hours a week, I can't say much about it. Writing will become again some sort of luxury for me.   
> I had the whole month time to finish it and wrote like a maniac so I could complete it before I jump into this next phase of my life and I am glad and proud I indeed made it. 
> 
> This was a great project and what can I say; feet first!
> 
> Take care everybody!   
> Sam  
> (I want to point out I will offer a free pdf of this story, edited as usual with cover in a while on my tumblr page, so check from time to time. But that will need at least a month.)


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